Channeling to You
by samsationalization
Summary: Delthea knew two things for sure: she was a gifted Channeler and this was NOT the adventure she was looking for. She wanted to go see the world beyond her village, not be tied down at some academy! Little does she know, her eyes are about to be opened to a world far greater than what she bargained for, and it all starts with a boy who has a habit of talking to himself… (Modern AU)
1. Chapter 1: Gut Feeling

**Author's Note:**

**To my followers (I think there about 5 of you), this must have come out of nowhere, huh? Don't worry, I'm not quitting my other story. I just needed a break from things.**

**Life comes at you fast. I remember starting this profile when I was just starting high school. Fast-forward to now, I'm a college student and a functioning member of working society. At least, I am when I'm not wasting my time writing fanfiction of all things.**

**I wanted to get away from routine and the like. I actually have a project due several hours after posting this, but that can wait. I want to escape. And I will by writing this story.**

**So here it is. A series nobody asked for, but one I will gladly write, time and soul permitting.**

**If you have any questions about it, potential characters who appear, suggestions, whatnot, feel free to PM me. I will gladly take time to answer any pertinent questions you may have, that's if you've read this far and haven't skipped to the story already. Thank you for listening to my rambling.**

**Without any further ado, please enjoy.**

**EDIT: Portions of this chapter were edited and re-written to read better.**

* * *

Delthea was absolutely sure of two things.

She had a knack for Channeling and her big brother Lu was a big fat liar.

"You've got talent Delthea! You'll be just fine!"

No, she was not doing just fine, actually. As a matter of fact, she felt as if her morning's brunch was going to come hurling out of her mouth at any second. The un-rhythmic up-and-down swaying of the ship caused her shoulder-length brown hair to bob ungracefully. And the swaying definitely didn't help her insides either.

No amount of so-called "talent"—or whatever the hell her older brother was on—could have prepared her for her greatest nemesis yet: motion sickness

She had to get to the deck. Fast.

"Please. Please. Please. Not on the cute outfit…" she pleaded desperately.

She couldn't afford to puke all over the only fashionable clothes she brought—or had for that matter—unless she wanted to march around the entire day in her pajamas. The very thought of sauntering about in her kitten paw-print PJs was the push that kept her trudging forward. Such a thing would be a death sentence to her reputation.

But that would be putting the cart before the horse. At this very moment, she cared more for her well-being than an abstract, non-existent concept like her popularity.

She was heading somewhere new, far away from the home she had grown up, surrounded by complete and utter strangers. If she wanted to see any of that, and flourish her unbridled potential, whether as a Channeler or a popular girl that people adored, she needed to get to the deck.

However willing her spirit was, her body lacked the same conviction.

Under her seasickness, her legs felt like jelly and lead at the same time. Too wobbly to stand up straight and too heavy to move around freely.

Clinging onto the wall railing for dear life, Delthea inched her way down the pristine, red-carpeted hall, her old beaten-up boots dragging slowly behind.

Plip.

Plop.

Plip.

Plop.

Plip.

Her left eye twitched.

"Why… are these freakin' hallways so darn long?!" she exclaimed, fury in her voice.

However, her anger was quickly washed over by a different, conflicting feeling.

She wasn't worried that someone had seen her childish outburst. She could worry about that another day. It was because her sudden yell made her stomach do a somersault with the grace of a skydiver without a parachute.

If that wasn't bad enough, the skydiver was due for imminent landing.

Cold sweat broke out along her cheeks and the backside of her neck.

Her knees wobbled.

"I'm done for…" she muttered. Her grip on the bannister slackened as she began to slowly sink into the glossy red carpet.

The demise of her sanctity—especially her clothes—was all but certain. Her mind jumped through hoops and hurdles to think of ways that would minimize damage to herself, leading her eyes eventually to the pristine, red-carpeted floor. For all her time on the ship, the floor had never looked so appealing.

She'd apologize to the ship's janitor later for dirtying it with pudding and muffins—or what was left of them. What wasn't her fault was how delicious they had been at the brunch. It would have been a crime to not scarf down a few.

Okay, maybe more than just a few.

It wasn't everyday she got to enjoy such tasty treats for a meal. Back home, it was always the same old servings of rice and whatever roots and veggies her brother bought at the town market. Food lacked variety. She'd be lucky if she got such a treat in a month, without having to pay a pretty penny for it.

Her family ran an inn in the countryside and actually served such treats on the daily. But after an incident that ruined a fresh batch of cookies meant for the customers, Delthea was barred from entering the kitchen without express permission. It was something she never got to live down. And now, her withdrawals were at their peak.

When she heard that good food would be provided during this trip, Delthea didn't hesitate in agreeing to come aboard. Sure, there was something about touring a school and showcasing ability but all of that came second. She left all the complicated paperwork involved to Lu. This was a chance of a lifetime, and chance to let loose and enjoy herself, and Delthea wasn't about to lose it.

Though, they say hindsight is 20/20.

And now, Delthea wished she hadn't stuffed herself to the brim with so many sweets. It definitely wasn't a good first impression to leave the other passengers she had boarded with, especially a crowd with so many lookers.

She still remembered the face of one of them: well-kempt red hair, his sharp, handsome features, the gentle-look in his eyes, the slight smile he gave her as they made eye-contact while she jammed another pastry into her mouth. Thinking back on it made her heart flutter.

But something else was aflutter right now, namely her poor, abused stomach. There would be another time for her to revel in her fantasies. Right now, her biggest problem, more than her budding reputation as a sweet-toothed maniac, was that she needed to get up and move before she turned into a walking doggy bag.

Mustering up her last reserves of energy, Delthea tried pulling herself up with the railing one last time, but it was no use. Strength had left her limbs, betraying her. She would never forgive them.

The only thing keeping everything down was her sheer force of will, but even such willpower had its limits.

And she was fast approaching hers.

"Somebody… anybody…" she croaked, echoing lifelessly down the barren halls, "Please save me…"

Of course, there wasn't a response. Why would there be? The hallway was empty. It had been for the last hour. Everyone had already headed to the bridge ever since the announcement that they would be seeing Port City soon, awaiting land.

Land. Sweet, sweet land. Delthea had overheard several passengers earlier complaining about being out at sea and wishing to set foot on land as soon as possible. She mentally ridiculed them for thinking that way on a trip like this, but she now found herself sympathizing with their sentiments. Perhaps this was karmic retribution for her quick-to-judge attitude.

To make the sentencing worse, everyone was probably lined up along the dock rails, binoculars and cameras in hand to greet the renowned city, and beloved land. And here was Delthea, unceremoniously flat on her bottom, awaiting her impending doom like an inmate on death row, help barely out of reach.

Delthea wasn't really the devout type but her crumbling resolve made her desperate. She really was out of options now. She shut her eyes. Her mind furiously chanted a prayer to any divine being that would lend an ear or two, since saying it aloud would erupt her stomach to kingdom come.

Her plea wasn't very long.

She just wanted something to save her.

Or kill her so she wouldn't have to suffer the aftermath of the disaster in her stomach.

"Hey."

Was… was she hearing the voice of God right now? Had someone heard her cries? No, that's not possible. It couldn't be.

The seasickness must've gotten so bad, I'm beginning to hear things, Delthea thought to herself while smiling dejectedly, I'm beyond saving now…

"Hey."

The voice came again and this time she heard it clearer, making her sit up now. It was that of a man. She didn't realize that God was male.

I wonder what he looks like, she wondered.

If God looked anything like the ginger stud she saw earlier, she would proudly profess to her faith to—

"HEY!"

The sudden yell made her jump to her feet, seasickness be damned. There was no doubt in her mind now that there definitely was someone talking to her and it wasn't "God" or anything supernatural of that kind. Thinking about it, no god could ever sound as coarse and ungentle as the voice she heard just now.

Peeking from behind her closed eyes, Delthea saw the outline of a figure that towered over her by at least two or three head sizes… and well-built to boot.

Oh, it definitely was a man.

All the alarms in her head were sounding off at full blast.

She pondered for a moment if it could have been the boy she saw at brunch. His voice was a bit harsh but his looks would more than make up for—

"You can stop pretending to have your eyes closed."

Drat.

No use hiding now.

Delthea slowly opened her eyes.

Her heart dropped faster than her mouth did.

Instead of the well-dressed, handsome boy she had envisioned, a grimy-looking janitor stood in front of her, mop, bucket, and all. Stains of various and unknown origin smeared his work overalls.

He wore a dirty work cap atop his head, hiding his unkempt teal-colored hair and shrouding much of his face. Delthea could not think of a worse thing to open her eyes to on the verge of vomiting.

Her insides began to churn again.

"Look, I saw you hunched over and… Are you... alright?"

Unlike the gruffness in his voice before, the man spoke gentler now. But it was a little too late for niceties. Not after what Delthea was feeling right now.

She glared up at him.

"Does it look like I'm—Wh?!"

Before she could even finish her sentence, she felt something large and warm cover her forehead.

It took her a full second to realize that this total stranger had his hand on her forehead

Wh-wh-wh-what is he doing?!

She was about to cry out until she saw the janitor use his other hand to remove his cap and place his palm against his own forehead. When Delthea saw what was hidden beneath the mess, her eyes widened.

She had mistakenly thought that the janitor was some old weird man but reality couldn't be any further from the truth.

He was a boy. A bit older than she was.

To say the boy was attractive would be inaccurate. Oh, he was attracting her attention alright. Attraction and suspicion often go hand in hand. In any other case, Delthea would have been screaming for help, but something about this stranger made her quiet and unable to tear her eyes away.

A unique flavor of coldness unlike anything she had ever seen before exuded from his sharp features. The pronounced contours of his face were further outlined by his fair—rather pale—skin. His handsome face would have been perfectly symmetrical if not for the worried expression he wore.

But his most striking feature had to be his eyes, which were an odd shade of faded blue, reminding her of the tundras Delthea saw in a science book back home. Just like the frozen wastelands they mirrored, his eyes were just as sharp and icy. Delthea could feel the chill just looking at them.

The way it seeped right into her soul… and how she could see a reflection of herself in the crystalline pool of his eyes.

He had been looking directly at her for some time.

Funnily, all Delthea felt now was her face heat up. He on the other hand was unfazed.

Who was this boy? Why was someone like this working as a janitor aboard a ship? Why was someone who looked like this working as a janitor? Why was his gaze so mesmerizing?

Her questions would go unanswered as he took his hand off Delthea's forehead. For a lingering second, as cool air brushed against her skin, she was almost sorry that he did. There was something strangely comforting about his touch. For someone who appeared icy, his hands were certainly warm.

"Mm. Can't be a cold," he said to himself, shaking his head, "Temperature is not hot enough."

But you know what is?

…

She didn't say that of course but Delthea still felt like slapping herself in the face. Now really wasn't the time to joke around. Perhaps the butterflies in her stomach had reached her head… or perhaps it wasn't butterflies she was feeling again.

"Oo—oogh…" she groaned, slumping up against the wall, her knees buckling. The pleasant shock of this chance encounter wore off and the uneasy, dull pain began to slowly return.

Fate really had it out for her today. A once in a lifetime trip and encounter, and she's seasick in the midst of it all. What a sick joke.

... She really wished it weren't so literal.

The boy continued to observe her before a shift in his eyes indicated he had come to a conclusion.

"You're seasick."

A part of Delthea wanted to shoot back saying why on earth it took the boy so long to get to that realization but all she could do was nod weakly.

The boy then knelt next to her. He reached for her hand. Delthea was still uneasy at the prospect of a total stranger touching her so frankly but she didn't bother mustering up resistance. Any sudden movement would spell—or maybe, spill?—doom for her and her poor companion.

Delthea didn't wish such a fate upon anyone, not even her worst enemies.

Rather than her hand, the boy thankfully took a hold of her wrist. There's a very important distinction between the two, okay? Gently, yet firmly, he pressed his thumbs against the area several centimeters below the joint.

"Ow!"

Delthea instinctively yelped, despite feeling no actual pain. The cool sensation that had pierced her at the wrist, like thin, fine needles, surprised her. Now, the calming cold feeling slowly spread throughout to all corners of her body. For how warm the boy's hands were when they touched her forehead, they were a lot cooler now, which had caught her off guard. How did he manage to do that?

Delthea didn't have much time to dwell on those thoughts however. Instead, she focused wholly on how much better she was feeling.

It was like she just rose up from swampy water, fresh air filling her lungs, body, and especially her stomach. The mountain of pressure and weight that bogged her down felt excised from her body.

It was magical. Surreal.

She looked back at the boy whose eyes were glued to his task, still kneading his thumbs against her wrist, adding slight variations to where and how he was applying pressure. The concentrated look on his face made him appear quite dashing, gallant even.

Delthea wanted to pinch herself, to prove to herself that this wasn't a dream but that would disturb the boy, and she wanted to bask in the moment a little longer. She'd let the boy continue to work his magic.

Unlike when she opened her mouth, the silence was rather pleasant to hear.

"What… did you do?" Delthea asked after feeling comfortable enough to talk.

The boy slowed his kneading and met her eyes. Delthea almost instinctively looked away. They were inviting but also repelling her at the same time. She had never felt like this before when making eye contact with someone.

"Pressure points are all over our body," he said, pointing to where he was massaging along Delthea's arm. He tapped his cold, slender finger against the area he was currently working on. "This one in particular is good for alleviating seasickness."

"O-oh, I see." She managed to say. What else was she supposed to add? This was all out of her element. It was in her best interest to keep quiet about things she didn't know, unless she wanted to come off like an idiot.

Delthea was not one who normally got tongue-tied over talking with strangers. Heck, back home, she had a knack for kicking it off with all the guests who visited their inn, regardless of the incessant scolding she got from her brother.

It was one of the few forms of entertainment she had and her method of connecting to the world beyond. Her village was a bit isolated from the rest of the larger world after all, being so far in the country. It left her hungry for new stories and experiences, sometimes more so than the hunger she felt for sweets.

And today marked a startlingly new experience for her.

"Feeling any better?"

She hesitantly nodded. As confused as she was about her own nervousness, Delthea knew for sure that she didn't want this pleasantness to end. However, she felt bad for the boy… who she still did not know the name of.

"Thank you. For helping me out in a pinch," she said, "I would have… been in a lot of trouble if you didn't help me."

A subtle smile appeared on the boy's face, the corners of his mouth rising ever so slightly. It... appeared less like a smile and more like he was stretching his mouth, but Delthea could feel his sincerity… or at least hoped she did.

"Don't mention it," he said, shaking his head. "Helping… is just something I do."

Delthea scratched her cheek with her free hand. "I want to thank you properly, but I don't know your name…"

"Ah…" the boy realized.

He cleared his throat.

"Byleth."

Delthea's eyebrows went up. Her exposure to names from around the world was quite vast—working at the family inn helped her with that—but this was one she had never actually heard before. It was wholly unfamiliar and foreign to her ears… but had a nice ring to it too.

"Well, thank you, Byleth. Name's Delthea. You really saved my skin," she said. "Can't go marching around the academy smelling like… you know."

As she finished her sentence, Delthea noticed that Byleth had cocked his head.

"Did you say 'Academy?'"

She nodded. "Yeah, that's partly—I mean, mainly—the reason I'm even on this ship."

He raised an eyebrow. "Heroes Academy?"

Geez, what a gaudy name, Delthea thought to herself, hearing the name aloud, getting second-hand embarrassment. She had no idea how such places managed to stay open being shamelessly named as such or gain any attendance at all.

Yet, as the luck's irony would have it, it was the very same place she was headed herself.

"That's the one," she answered, reluctant almost.

There was a pause in Byleth's massage. His eyes turned away from her wrist and towards her, his gaze gliding over what felt like every inch of her. Unlike the comforting presence given off by his touch, his staring had her incredibly unsettled.

She usually wasn't one to turn away the attention of an attractive young man… but something about Byleth's hawk-like staring made her blood run cold.

This almost felt like an animal being cornered by its predator. Any slight movement or sound would set the hunter upon the hunted.

Not that Delthea had ever gone hunting before, but the analogy was too good to pass up in her mind.

He stared at her for a while and began muttering something under his breath. It was for but a few seconds, and Delthea would have missed it had she not been paying such keen attention to the boy.

Byleth must have noticed, both his muttering and her awareness, and quickly closed his mouth, but it was too late for that. Delthea had already heard what he said. The very topic raised quite the fuss back home… and was sort of the reason why she was offered this once in a lifetime trip in the first place.

"That's right," she said, looking the boy straight in the eye. "I'm a Channeler."

Personally, Delthea understood very little about what being a Channeler entailed. Part of her announcing it was because it sounded cool to say, and the other was because what her brother had reassured her:

She was gifted at Channeling, the ability to harness the power of the world's elements through one's body.

It was the closest thing the world had to magic. Many actually believed that it was. How can channeling lightning or fire into your very hands be considered not to be?

But for a while, she didn't think it possible. Being from the countryside reinforced that. People back home stayed away from the hocus-pocus stuff. Topics like magic and conjuring elements firmly remained in the realm of fiction and myth. Channelers and Channeling types never really showed their faces that deep in the middle of nowhere. And for the longest while, Delthea scoffed at the thought of such people existing.

However, when Delthea accidentally conjured a fireball in the palm of her hand one day, any previous inkling of doubt faded instantly.

She was a Channeler through and through, and a gifted one at that, whatever that meant. So much so, it somehow attracted the attention of everyone in her town and, by sheer coincidence, Heroes Academy. It was by this happenstance that led her to this current predicament. The trip's purpose was to showcase her "abilities" before the school.

Though, her actual reasons for boarding were much different and less pure.

The queasy feeling in her stomach was testament to that.

Uncomfortable but refusing to let something like a gaze intimidate her, Delthea stared back into Byleth's eyes.

"What about it, me being a Channeler?"

Byleth looked at her for a few more seconds before turning his eyes back toward her wrist.

"… might be why you got seasick," he finally said. With his middle finger, he then drew a line down her forearm, causing her to jump slightly at his sudden touch.

"Hey!" she yelped, "What was that for?"

"Channelers are more in-tune with their body and surroundings than regular people," he answered, unfazed at her outburst. "I barely grazed you but you reacted pretty actively."

Delthea's eyes went wide. "Does that mean..."

"Same applies for your insides too," he said, pointing to her stomach. Thankfully he didn't poke it or anything. Her ears were already burning and red as is.

Delthea's gaze wandered towards her hurting stomach.

"I... see."

It ached less with pain now, all thanks to Byleth.

Just who was he?

"What is it that you…" Delthea began before changing her sentence. "Why are you on this ship?"

Delthea knew how much a stupid question that was, given what the boy was wearing. But something... was bugging her. No mere janitor would be this knowledgeable about niche topics like pressure points or channeling.

No, she felt like Byleth was a lot more than he was letting on. That's what her gut told her, on top of telling her that she had been mere seconds away from disaster before Byleth came to her rescue.

Unsurprisingly, he merely shrugged his shoulders regarding her question as he continued to massage her wrist. "Work, I suppose."

A tough customer. It seemed like he wasn't about budge so willingly about himself. Still, she had a beat on him. He wouldn't have deflected her question with a vague response otherwise. She wanted to prod further.

"You suppose? Isn't this your job?"

"Yes. At least, until we reach land. That's the deal the captain and I agreed upon."

Now there was some more info. Byleth needn't say anything yet it seemed like he was continuing to lead her on. He could've given her another vague response but that tidbit regarding "the captain" only further fueled her growing curiosity. Either Byleth was too honest for his own good or actually wanted Delthea to know more about him.

Whichever it was, she was intent on finding out as much as she could. She primed her next question.

"So… what do you do normally?"

As you could have guessed, Delthea had a knack for asking questions. Working around and serving guests at the inn made her a bit of an adept on the subject. She was quite good at asking leading questions and getting people to answer her, all for the sake of getting to the juicy answers that awaited her at the end of conversations. It was one of her main sources of entertainment back home. However, it also taught her when she may have stepped too far into personal territory.

For the first time in their conversation, Byleth became utterly silent, not even muttering to himself like he did before. Delthea initially thought that he might not have heard her but she immediately noticed the way his eyes had narrowed, a sheet of ice glazing over them.

The tundra had evolved into nuclear winter.

Delthea wanted to know more but knew better than to overstep her bounds. It was time for her to back down.

But to her surprise, Byleth answered her, albeit barely.

"Odd jobs."

He accompanied it with an extra hard squeeze on her wrist.

Ouch.

Silence resumed. But unlike before, it felt less than soothing. Still, it gave Delthea time to ponder what Byleth had meant when he answered. What sort of odd jobs could he be talking about if he refused to answer clearly? Was Byleth involved in some shady dealings? Was he affiliated with organized crime? Was her life in danger for daring to ask such questions? The more she thought, the more outlandish her musings became, each of them more outrageous than the last.

After a few more minutes, Byleth wrapped up his work. Rising to his feet and lending his hand forward, he helped Delthea back up. With a few unsteady steps, Delthea managed to stand, albeit feeling a little woozy still.

"How are you feeling?" Byleth asked.

Delthea checked herself out. She kicked out with her legs and flapped her elbows. Her arms and legs didn't feel like complete dead weight anymore but the unsteadiness from before lingered a bit. Her head didn't feel completely right either. For a brief moment, Delthea felt a strange sensation course through her limbs and body. But it faded away almost as immediately as it came.

Byleth's massage must have been a bit too effective, Delthea guessed, trying brush off the feeling. It was a damn good one. She was already having withdrawals. Perhaps that weird feeling was just an aftereffect of it.

However Byleth was rather sharp. He must have noticed that something was up with Delthea. He reached into his overalls' pockets and pulled out a small plastic zip-up bag, one that would fit inside the palm of one's hand. In them, Delthea could make out small, pink-colored tablets. He handed the bag to her.

"If the motion sickness comes back again, take these," he instructed, tapping the pills.

Delthea fingered the tablets through the bag, feeling their hard cold exterior shells. Hard medicine was never her strong suit. She struggled swallowing them, worried that she'd end up choking on them by accident.

However, unlike the ones she was accustomed to seeing, these pills were unmarked and remarkably small, smaller than any other hard medicine she had ever seen. They were about half the size of her pinky nail. Despite her apprehension to hard medicine, she accepted it gratefully.

"Thank you. I ought to take one now, just to be on the safe side, right?"

Byleth shrugged his shoulders. "Suit yourself. We've got about half an hour or so until we reach the docks of Port City. Though I have to warn you, be sure to take it with—"

But before Byleth could finish, Delthea unzipped the plastic bag and popped a tiny pill into her mouth. It was small enough for her to swallow without hassle. Anything bigger, and she would have needed a glass of water. It went down way easier than expected.

Byleth stared at her, unblinking, eyes wide and his mouth agape. It wasn't the kind of expression she expected Byleth would be able to make… and it was rather goofy. Delthea found herself smirking in response.

"What? You impressed or something?"

The boy said nothing. Instead, he turned around briefly and picked up the bucket he was holding earlier and handed it to her.

Now, it was Delthea's turn to be wide-eyed. Taken aback by the wide-rimmed steel bucket that was thrust so ungracefully into her hands, she asked, "Why are you handing me—Wh-what am I supposed to do with this?"

Byleth then reached for her this time. Steadying the bucket with one hand, he kept her hair in place and gently tilted her head with the other, pointing it downwards towards the bucket.

"Try not to get any on the floor or your hair.

Before she could respond with her profanities at this inane treatment, Byleth gave her a wry smile.

"Oh, and try your best to avoid splashing on your cute outfit."

Delthea then finally understood what Byleth was trying to do.

After all, it's not hard to see why you would need a bucket when the contents of your morning's brunch were being expelled from your mouth.

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**(A/N): Hey, thanks for reading. Know that if you have any questions about the story, characters who might make an appearance, what age the characters are, or, heck, even what sort of ice-cream they like, feel free to shoot me a PM.**

**Ask and you shall receive. Mostly. On a good day. When I am not weighed down by a mountain of work as a "working professional" (believe me when I say I have some reservations regarding that title).**

**Have yourselves a damn good one.**


	2. Chapter 2: Docked Out of Luck

**Author's Note: Hello everyone. It's been a rather crazy week. With the whole COVID-19 situation going, everything's been rather hectic back home. It's been getting in the way of my writing. I wanted to spend more time writing but legitimate life obligations keep coming up, keeping me away from my computer.**

**Because I don't know how my situation may be, I am going to uploading on a bi-weekly schedule, on the Tuesday-Wednesday of every other week. It'll give me more time to refine my stuff while also giving me the time I need to take care of all my other crap. I'd rather not push out mediocre stuff just to meet scheduling demands. I already deal with enough deadlines and schedules damn it! (Well this turned out to be an absolute lie!)**

**So if I don't happen to upload on time, don't fret. I am not dead. Just super busy. If you have questions or concerns, just PM me. I'll happily answer your questions, whether they're about the story or about how my life is going, that is if you care that much.**

**Anyway, sorry for wasting your time. Here's the chapter. Just know that I will not be uploading a new one every week. This one's a special case.**

**Enjoy.**

**EDIT: This chapter has been edited and re-written for better reading.**

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Delthea lifelessly leaned against the railings along the ship's rear deck, where her only company was the less than calming sea wind and the endless expanse of blue before her. The shimmering ocean shone irritatingly before. She didn't choose this spot to sight see.

She chose this spot to be out of sight.

Delthea was unsure if the horrid scent of the incident before had clung to her clothing. She was aware that vomit had an unpleasant smell, but what she experienced earlier was beyond anything speakable or holy.

Sniffing at her skirt, jacket, or blouse was a fruitless endeavor and did nothing but get the salty ocean breeze in her nostrils. It was too early to tell if the smell had faded and she wasn't willing to risk it being around people to find out the hard way.

But what she was sure of without a shadow of a doubt was the nasty sensation that clung to her. She had spent the last ten minutes gargling with the mouthwash Byleth had provided her—and she was still going at it.

It was to the point where the inside of her cheeks, her tongue, and the roof of her mouth all stung like crazy, like they were being pricked with dozens of thin-tipped needles. The longer she gargled on, the more unbearable the sensation became. Her eyes even began to water. Yet, the lingering aftertaste of… the "brunch" persisted, refusing to be evicted like an unruly tenant.

How stubborn.

Luckily, Delthea was quite stubborn as well. She rolled the harsh, mint-flavored mouthwash throughout her mouth furiously, letting the stinging liquid cover even the farthest recesses within her mouth. Not a single inch would remain unscathed. She would show this unwanted guest the full might of her landlordship.

…

Her cheeks now began to ache.

It was a lost battle.

Scowling, Delthea spat the contents of her mouth out into the sea. The blue minty mouthwash were overtaken the instant they came in contact with the sea, being washed away by its relentless, frothing waves that were colliding with the ship's hull.

A part of her wanted the waves to take her too, so she could just disappear. She was still reeling from what happened half an hour ago.

It had all happened so fast. One moment she gulped down a pill. No problem. The next, she was hunched over the steel bucket throwing up like there was no tomorrow. Muffins or pudding, her stomach didn't discriminate. Everything had to go. How dangerously progressive.

All joking aside, only after going through that heaving hell, did Delthea learn the unfortunate truth from Byleth:

The pills he had given her were… rather special, to say the least. There was a special chemical in them that reacted violently when coming into contact with stomach acid. To prevent such a reaction, the pills were to be taken in tandem with water, which neutralized the component, unless one wanted to… well, you know.

Delthea wanted to know what self-respecting pharmaceutical company would ever come up with something so disastrous and why the hell such pills were in Byleth's possession in the first place. However, she didn't get a chance to grill Byleth regarding the pills. Rather, she didn't have the mental fortitude to. She had knelt on the floor, slouched over the bio-weapon bucket, for a good while after she finished. Byleth respectfully let her be to regain her bearings.

Strength returned to her legs before it did in her voice. Once she had the energy to get back to her wobbling feet, Byleth wasted no time in disposing of the crime against nature in a bucket.

Delthea had never seen someone holding a bucket full of vomit move so fast and gracefully. His movements were acrobatic almost, the way he maneuvered around to not spill a single drop of… it. It was quite a sight, one she prayed that she would never, ever have to see again.

Once Byleth had returned from potentially harming the environment by probably chucking the contents overboard, he informed Delthea of how much closer the ship had gotten to Port City. He suggested that she come to the deck and get some fresh air.

Like how any sensible person would respond, Delthea refused instantaneously.

She refused.

"Go out there… like this?!"

Long story short, Byleth instead took her to the secluded stern of the ship, away from wary eyes and nostrils, where she was sitting now, and brought some mouthwash for her to use to purify herself from this indignation. It was some weird-looking brand she had never heard of but she wasn't going to say no to it. It was the only option she had, the other being to jump headlong into the ocean and hopefully sink to the very bottom and never arise again. She remembered seeing an old monster movie at the old theater back home that had a creature like that. It spewed toxic waste from its mouth and was defeated when it retreated deep into the ocean. It wasn't exactly comforting to compare herself to some mutant monster but as long as it kept her mind occupied from her more prevailing problem, she didn't mind one bit.

She rubbed her sore, vacant belly. Although her stomach had been emptied out, an unpleasantness sat inside, making her grimace as her hand gingerly smoothed over it.

Delthea sighed. It was laced with an unpleasant taste.

Gross.

Now she wished she had waited for Byleth to finish his explanation before she took the stupid medicine. If she had, then she wouldn't be dealing with this stupid problem and instead be spending time productively with Byleth. She was still very curious about him after all.

At least that's what she had hoped for. But as her luck would have it, Byleth was immediately busy after dealing with the aftermath of the incident and was called to somewhere on the ship. It didn't really surprise her to be honest. Someone with a weirdly diverse skillset like Byleth would absolutely be wanted all over the ship. It was only by sheer coincidence that the two even met. Had he not been in that very corridor when she was falling apart due to seasickness... Delthea shuddered to imagine the alternative.

It made her feel slightly guilty that all the hard work Byleth put into helping alleviate her seasickness was thrown out the window the moment she took the pill without waiting. But even in spite of that, Byleth stayed at her side and helped her through the ordeal, despite how... gross it all was. For someone she had only known for less than an hour, he was quite the boy scout.

But the more she thought of it, the weirder everything seemed. Why had Byleth even stepped in to help her? Sure, he was a janitor aboard the ship but doing the things he did were usually—no, definitely—outside the wheelhouse of some average custodian.

It wasn't like she didn't appreciate the help, but something about Byleth just felt… off to her.

Delthea had a practiced eye when it came to people-watching. It came in quite handy now.

There was the usual list of things she had caught. His blank, expressionless—but really handsome—face. The way he talks to himself. His weird areas of expertise. His super-duper magical hands.

But most eye-catching of all:

His unusual eyes.

Byleth's eyes held a sharp edge, much like the rest of his pronounced features, but they were also intensely cold. Unnaturally, almost. They say that the eyes are the window to a person's soul. Delthea remembered staring deep into them before—and instinctively wanting to look away.

Something about them seemed… empty. Devoid… of SOMETHING. Delthea just couldn't figure out what.

Yet, it was this strange person who reached out to her in her hour of need. Despite her temper, Byleth did nothing but help her get through it all—albeit it did end with her vacating her guts into a bucket, but that was in part due to her carelessness.

Delthea was still a bit upset with him, partially for suggesting the medicine in the first place, but at the same time knew that she really couldn't be.

How could she ever stay mad at someone who saved her in her moment of need? His looks had little to do with it.

… No, that was a lie. But still.

Delthea would probably forget the whole ordeal, even if she wanted to. The entire, awful experience managed to turn into something of a cherished memory.

Okay, not cherished, but something memorable.

…

Too memorable…

Now, more than just apologize, Delthea wanted to thank him. For just about everything. Byleth went above and beyond to help a perfect stranger. She wouldn't be able to do such a thing. Her judgmental side got in the way too much. But Byleth didn't seem to care. He gave his aid to someone he barely knew.

And to someone he would probably never see again.

...

That thought hadn't left her mind.

This chance meeting of hers, this new chapter she had opened, would soon be coming to a close before it really ever began. Once the ship finished docking, Byleth would stop by, they would chat briefly, say what little they had left to say, and Delthea would give her goodbyes and be off to the academy.

Whatever life Byleth had, Delthea knew it couldn't possibly intersect with her own. Partially because Delthea never wanted to set foot onto another boat for the rest of her life. Byleth probably had a lot of important things to do. With that repertoire of his, Delthea knew that Byleth wasn't any ordinary person. No ordinary person could have such magical hands!

And she… well, she knew her place in the world.

It wasn't anywhere near boats, that was for damn sure.

All Delthea had now, other than bad breath, was time. Time to think about what her last words were going to be to a boy who made her feel…

What was it that she felt?

Was it gratitude? No, probably a little more than that.

Adoration? Mm, too early to say that, and Delthea really wasn't the worshipping type.

Her hands tightened around the plastic mouthwash container as she continued to ponder. The plastic shell began to squeal from the sheer pressure of her hands.

"What DO I feel?"

"Feeling sick?"

"GAH!"

Delthea jumped from where she was sitting, her arms flailing. In doing so, the container of mouthwash was catapulted from her hands and went straight into the unceasing waves below. There was a little sploosh of water as it sunk from sight.

"Guess that means no."

She turned around to see who it was.

It was Byleth but not how she expected him to look.

He was no longer in his janitorial garb. Ditching the scruffy work coveralls, Byleth now donned a much cleaner, refined look. Combining a long sleeve, dark navy turtleneck—which was very form fitting—with tailored black slacks, topped off with a pair of sleek gray suede boots, Delthea saw what Byleth's scruffy work clothes had been hiding from her

And my god, what a treat it was for her sore eyes. She couldn't even come up with anything to say.

Lucky for her, Byleth had now focused his attention elsewhere, namely the bottle of mouthwash that was bound for the bottom of the ocean. Peering over the railing, he clicked his tongue.

"Cap isn't going to be too pleased about that," he remarked, putting his hands to his waist.

"U-uuuh…" was all Delthea managed to flub out. Tossing the mouthwash over hadn't really registered yet. She was still taken by Byleth's new look.

While what he was wearing was rather tame and plain, the simplicity of his outfit brought out his looks even more, highlighting his striking features. He no longer looked like a janitor with a pretty face. He looked on par with the other upper class people aboard the ship, even the red-headed boy. Standing next to Byleth, Delthea realized how out of her league she was.

And that someone like him was giving her undivided attention.

If it weren't for the whole puking business, Delthea would have been convinced that today was a dream.

"You actually alright?" Byleth asked, attempting to reach for her forehead again.

She immediately swatted his hand away. "D-don't come so close!"

Delthea worried that Byleth might catch a whiff of the potential unpleasant smell that lingered on her. It would shatter her esteem if Byleth gave her a grossed out look.

Instead of such an expression, his eyes widened slightly, surprised at her outburst. Probably not the best answer to prove she wasn't sick.

Quick! Think of something to say that won't worry him!

She took a deep breath but she immediately regretted doing so. Sucking up her embarrassment, she answered honestly.

"… The smell from earlier... I think it's still on me..."

Delthea braced for Byleth's reaction but no amount of preparation readied her to simply see him nonchalantly nod his head. It was like Byleth hadn't even cared about the implications of what she said.

He calmly walked up next to her and rested on the ship's railings. He would have absolutely been close enough to smell her at this distance. Delthea kept her mouth clamped up—or tried to—when Byleth spoke again.

"As long as you're not sick."

The utter calmness of his answer and care for her left her dumbstruck. He definitely was a strange one.

Delthea eventually joined him along the rails, mustering the courage to look past the sour taste in her mouth. The two stood next to each other quietly for a while, letting the winds and ocean do the talking. The wind had receded to a gentle breeze and the water became a murmur that splashed along the ship's sides. It was a reminder of how much closer the ship had gotten to shore.

And how little time Delthea had left with this stranger.

She cleared her throat.

"You… took a while with whatever you were doing," Delthea said, breaking the silence. "I take it that means you finished everything you needed to?"

Byleth folded his arms and looked over her shoulder, towards the never ending ocean.

"Almost," he replied, "I'm not finished just yet."

She didn't expect that answer. Delthea had known Byleth for less than an hour but he didn't seem like the type to leave a job half-finished. "Really? What is it?"

Byleth pointed below the ship's railing. "I have to replace the Cap's mouthwash. No way we're getting that back now."

Oh. Right. I threw that.

"… sorry 'bout that," she apologized sheepishly, realizing what she had done. Even though she knew there was no way the mouthwash container was visible, Delthea peered over the railing towards the sea anyway. The water was a lush, dark blue like it was before, betraying nothing of what hid deep in its waters.

Fudge.

The mouthwash must have sunk hundreds of feet by now, deep enough for the mutant monster to probably use. Even if it hadn't sunk to begin with, there would be no way to get it anyway. It was not like Delthea could—or was going to—jump off the ship to retrieve a mere plastic bottle of mint-flavored liquid. That would be tantamount to suicide.

She did say she wanted to sink into the waves earlier but that was before Byleth rejoined her.

She wanted to relish every second of it now, knowing the ship would dock soon. That would mark the end for this little misadventure—one she was sorry to see end so soon.

"L-let me make it up to you," Delthea stammered, trying to think of a way to help. "It was my fault it went overboard. Tell me how much it was. I'll cover the costs."

Byleth raised an eyebrow at her. "You sure? It was the Captain's."

Delthea was about to argue as to why Byleth would lend such a belonging to her in the first place, but she knew that that line of thinking would get them nowhere. She had to show that she was a responsible and capable young lady! … one that was prone to explosive vomiting and throwing objects overboard.

Real smooth there, pal… she mentally berated herself.

But this was her chance! It was her chance to show Byleth her better than average traits! Yeah, she'd show him! That she wasn't someone who completely dependent on others! That she wasn't just some kid from the sticks! And she had just what she needed.

Triumphantly, she patted the wallet in her jacket pocket.

For this trip, Delthea brought the extra cash she had been saving. It was a decently sized stash. Some of it was from working part-time at the inn. Even though her family ran the place, she was able to receive wages like any other worker would when she worked—of course, it involved a lot of sweet talking and persuasion to Lu.

He much preferred her focusing on her studying than menial chores at the inn, but she was a growing lady. Her sights were set beyond the horizon. To get there, she would need money. It took some time, but Lu eventually relented.

The other chunk of her stash came from tips she received from guests. Guests were good for more than just stories beyond her village after all. Treat them nice enough and throw in some genuine interest, they'd leave wads of cash behind as tips all in the name of "good service."

The face and name of her most recent patron came to mind. He was an older guy, someone far—light years—beyond her striking zone. Like, old-old, "old enough to be her father" old. People like that normally don't stand out to her, but this guy did.

The reason, other than the fact that he was ruggedly handsome, was his demeanor.

He gave off no weird vibes in slightest. Sure, his fashion sense was a bit dated and the way he spoke was rough around the edges, but he seemed like any other guest their inn would house.

That was the thing.

How could someone who looked like he was from the village over have that much money?

Guests that visited their inn ranged from many different backgrounds. The occasional snobby, wealthy person would drop by every other holiday. They often left lasting impressions with their less than admirable attitudes and behavior. But that's why this guy stood out so much more. He wasn't stiff necked like the other rich folk she dealt with before. Plus, he was on a different level entirely when it came to the money.

The tip he left was easily a dozen times bigger than anything else Delthea had earned. In fact, the tip alone made up more than half of the cash she brought. And it was a lot. More money than she had ever handled in her life. All of it sitting nice and pretty in her wallet. Lu didn't know anything about it of course. If he had, he'd force her to take it to the bank, into the savings account he had made for her. Lu was always more future-focused than she was.

The man didn't stay for more than two days. Not even halfway through his registered stay, he said he had some urgent business to attend to and left, but not before leaving her an envelope as his tip, thanking her for her hospitality.

Jerry… something, was his name.

Delthea didn't catch his last name and he didn't give it during their brief conversations either. She could have easily looked through the guestbook but that was against guest privacy rights or something like that. That was what Luthier told her when she tried digging through it.

From just their conversations alone, Delthea would have never guessed that someone like Jerry commanded that much money. The day he left, he was hurriedly talking into his cell phone in a hushed voice, leaving no room for her to ask the hundreds of questions that were swimming in her head.

She received that money about a week ago, which was a little bit after she had discovered her channeling potential.

And now, Delthea didn't realize that she would end up having to spend all of it so soon.

Byleth handed her a half-crumpled receipt he pulled out from his pants pocket. It was from a store she had never heard of, but judging by its minimalist—and pretentious-looking—logo, it was some real fancy joint, somewhere she could only dream about shopping at.

Her suspicions were true when her eyes wandered over to the only purchased item that was listed.

She felt knees almost buckle and collapse after comprehending such a number.

"… Wh-what in the fu—What even is this?!"

Delthea had never seen that many zeroes with her own two eyes.

"It's the price of the mouthwash."

That did nothing to clear up the situation.

"Why in the world is it so expensive?!" she exclaimed.

Byleth pocketed the receipt. "Cap insisted on this one. He said it was a limited stock item made from so rare herbs and minerals that are capable of cleansing everything. I thought it was nonsense but after seeing you use it, I guess I'm a believer too."

Delthea's eyes went wide like saucers. "Y-you were actually smelling me the whole time?! I—Wait, you're the one who bought it?!"

Byleth gave her a strange look. "Yeah, I did."

"Like paid, with your own money?"

"My job on board was to carry out all orders the Captain requested. I did what was asked and was reimbursed afterwards. Is there an issue?"

"W-wrong?... I… Erm, no… but…"

She was exasperated. Aside from the fact that Byleth pointed out how she smelled, the price of this mouthwash—

Delthea was raised all her life to be conservative with her money. That was the main reason why she ended up saving so much. And yet, here was Byleth, talking so frankly about the hideous sum of money he used like pocket change. Money of the likes beyond what Delthea could imagine. Add that to the growing list of Byleth's strange quirks.

"Are you okay?"

Delthea squirmed a little in her boots. Yes, there was something wrong. She couldn't pay for this! No way she could! It would leave her flat broke before she even went to the academy! How would she survive with not a penny to her name?!

…

But she had told Byleth that she would take care of it, and a responsible person never goes back on their word! So, she was left with no choice, except—

She took a deep breath.

Closing her eyes, she fell on her knees, slammed her hands onto the deck, and bowed. And at the top of her voice, she bellowed:

"Sorry! I can't pay for this!"

—to show that she wasn't responsible or capable after all.

Her slamming bow echoed across the deck, silencing the world for a brief moment. But that moment felt like an eternity to Delthea. She had so desperately wanted to prove that she was more than just a kid but all she did was show how over her head she was. What a great impression to leave someone with.

Byleth gazed down at her, his blank face betraying no emotion. Was he disappointed in her? Furious? Delthea couldn't tell and that worried her even more. She couldn't bear looking up at him anymore and shut her eyes tight. Seeing as how quiet Byleth was being, Delthea now knew, for sure, that he was absolutely, positively an—

"It's fine."

… What?

Delthea awkwardly opened a single eye and peered up at Byleth. He had the same look of indifference on his face. She quickly stood back up and dusted herself off.

"You're… not joking?" she worriedly asked.

He shook his head. "I never asked you to do my job for me. All I asked was whether you were sure or not."

A breath of relief escaped her lungs but only briefly. While she was relieved that Byleth would take care of the situation, she still felt guilty for what she had done.

She scratched her cheek.

"... Well, is there anything I can do to make this up for you?"

Byleth held his hand to his chin to think for a moment. Then, a small grin flashed across his face.

"Just try not to get sick again."

Delthea's face was flushed red and her ears began to burn. She didn't need reminding of the incident.

"So... what are you going to do about this?" She asked, trying her best to change the subject. "It's a LOT of money..."

"I'll handle it." Byleth answered nonchalantly, tapping the receipt tucked away in his pocket.

"Won't the Captain be angry?" Delthea worried.

"Not if we replace it in time." Byleth assured her. "Like I said, I'll handle it."

She hoped so. It would be her fault if Byleth got in trouble on her behalf. But before she even had a chance to ask anything else, a blaring horn ripped through the air. The clinking of large chains could be heard in the distance, indicating the lowering of the ship's anchor.

"That's our cue," Byleth remarked, looking towards the front of the ship. "We've arrived."

Delthea had been dreading this moment.

Byleth turned to leave. She had to stop him! By any means necessary!

"Wait!"

She quickly grabbed the hem of his sleeve. Taken aback, the boy stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. Even Delthea was surprised with her sudden boldness. As quickly as she grabbed it, she immediately let go, her face redder than before.

He gave her a confused look. "What is it?"

"I—um..." she stammered. No! This was not the time to get tongue-tied! She had to get her words across before she left the ship! Get yourself together, Delthea!

She took a deep breath. The deepest breath she could possibly take.

"Thanks for everything. Really. I just wanted to tell you that."

Raising an eyebrow, Byleth tilted his head.

"Did I really do anything to deserve such praise?" he muttered to himself.

She folded her arms. "You should know when to just take the compliment."

"Ah, right," he said, shaking his head. "Thank you, but why?"

Delthea sighed, putting her hands on the ship railing. "I just wanted to tell you that 'cause I'm probably not going to see you again. And it'd leave a bad taste in my mouth if I didn't thank you before that happened."

Byleth joined her by the edge of the ship. "Why do you say that?"

"Because I'm headed to the academy, you dummy," She explained, waving her hand around. "Didn't you ask me that earlier?"

He was still confused. "Yes, but I don't understand how that has anything to do with not seeing each other again."

She blinked several times, flabbergasted. He was being awfully insensitive. Or perhaps he was just that dense?

"It means this is where we say goodbye. Honestly, do I have to spell everything out like that?"

She had hoped to be a bit more melodramatic with her farewell, but that went up in flames. It would have been a bittersweet memory to think back on years from now. About a chance meeting she had with a mysterious boy, only for them to be separated due to their obligations. It was something straight out of those cheesy romance books in the inn's library.

Instead, she was going to be left with this, whatever this farewell was supposed to be. What an awkward way to end—

"Oh, I'm afraid you may have misunderstood something."

She narrowed her eyes and stared at Byleth. "What do you mean?"

He met her eyes unflinchingly. "I don't work on this ship. I mean, I technically did, but that's over now."

Something began to rise in her chest. "Wh-what are you saying?"

"My deal with the Captain was until we reached Port City."

Delthea recalled Byleth saying something similar in their earlier conversation back in the hallway, when she was prodding him to find out what kind of person he was. It didn't clear up anything one bit.

Her confusion must have been visible. He paused for a moment before he shook his head. "Don't worry about the Captain. That's my business. Just know that Port City is my stop as well."

There was a flicker of light in Delthea's eyes now. "Then does that mean—"

He nodded as he raised his hand towards her.

"I'm looking forward to seeing you at Heroes Academy."

* * *

**Chapter End**


	3. Chapter 3: Lost Baggage

**Author's Note:**

**Back to our newly scheduled programming. I almost didn't get this out on time. Deadlines and projects in the working world wait for no one. This week was absolutely goddamn hell. But this was fun.**

**COVID-19's been running my life upside down, like I'm sure it's doing to the rest of you. Hopefully everyone's staying home and staying healthy.**

**Maybe, I can help with your boredom. If you'll let me.**

**So, enough talk. Please enjoy.**

* * *

To say that Delthea was giddy with excitement would have been the understatement of the day.

She could hardly contain herself. The moment those words left Byleth's lips, a spark was lit beneath her. There was a small pang of uncertainty that lingered in her heart, but of what? It was an uneasy feeling, but she brushed it off. After all she went through today, it looked like things were finally beginning to look up. At long last.

_About damn time too._

Thousands of thoughts of the future flooded her mind. How was school life going to be like? How would she dress? Who would she be hanging out with? So many questions! But what was for certain was that she was going to go to school with a guy waaaay out of her league. And probably a lot more people like him, the atmosphere on the ship told her as much.

Today would mark her entry into the bigger world—one beyond her small country village. Her friends back home would KILL to be in her boots right now. This was where her life would be flipped upside down, in the direction she wanted.

She—ALMOST—felt happy that she was so sick earlier. It was what connected her and Byleth together in the first place. Had she not been, well, things would not have turned out differently. Probably real poorly and lonesome. Which would have sucked.

It was a horrid set of events that ended up working in her favor.

With childlike glee, she began bouncing around and skipping atop the ship's deck without a care in the world, the sea breeze comfortably blowing around her. As passengers departed the ship, they could faintly hear the faint clacking of heels against the wooden deck accompanied by raucous laughter. No one paid it any mind.

Her hair and jacket were aflutter with the winds, flapping wildly like a windsurfer who finally caught the break he was looking for.

This WAS quite the catch for her.

Byleth simply stood where he was, arms folded after having shook her hand—though calling it a handshake would not have sufficed. Small red imprints of Delthea's hands appeared all over Byleth's own, from her squeezing so hard.

Rather than being annoyed, he carried on the same look of indifference, standing and waiting for her to be done with her little ritual—or whatever this bizarre showcase was supposed to be.

This continued for several minutes until Delthea collapsed onto the deck in a huff out of exhaustion, still wearing a giddy smile that stretched from ear to ear.

Byleth approached her calmly with measured footsteps and crouched right next to where she was sprawled out like a pancake.

"You done?"

His words took a moment to register. Delthea's brain had yet to catch up. She nodded breathlessly, her cheeks tinged red from all the horsing around.

He extended his hand towards her—the same hand that she nearly tore off earlier—motioning for her to take it. She did so gladly.

Holding her firmly, Byleth raised the girl back to her feet in one swift motion, so fast it surprised her. Delthea knew that she wasn't all that heavy, but she also knew that she didn't weigh nothing either.

Yet Byleth pulled her up so easily, it was like he was lifting a feather. Sure, it was a boost to her ego, but it still felt odd. Even Lu struggled with holding her up—though the reason for that was because she was struggling to break free in his arms. Who would want to be carried like that by their brother?

Byleth on the other hand managed all this effortlessly, not even hurting her as he pulled her up.

"You can let go now."

"Huh? O-oh!"

Delthea was so caught up in her own thoughts, she didn't realize she was still holding onto Byleth's hand. It was so much bigger than hers. She quickly let go.

"Ehehe…" she chuckled sheepishly, scratching the side of her head. "Sorry about that."

Deep inside, she wasn't.

Byleth shook his head, not at all shaken like Delthea was. Without dwelling on the incident for more than a second, he then pointed towards the front of the ship. Delthea could see several crew members herding passengers towards the exits now that the ship had docked.

She could finally get off this damned boat!

"Shall we go?"

He needn't even ask.

* * *

From the moment they got off the boat, it was almost immediate chaos. People were EVERYWHERE.

The ship Delthea boarded brought quite a number of people already, but more people seemed to be streaming into the fairway of the docks from god knows where. Strangely enough, when Delthea looked around as she stepped off the metal staircase leading off the boat, she saw that no other ship had docked in this particular harbor. The large vessel sat alone.

Byleth motioned to her. "This way. Our luggage is being unloaded by the kiosk over there."

Delthea trotted behind him as quickly as her little legs could. Due to Byleth's stature, he easily bulldozed the way forward to the luggage carriers, preventing her from getting caught up in the human landslide swirling around them. Out of fear for her life, she clung to his backside, anchoring herself to her lifeline.

After a few suffocating moments, the two finally reached the kiosk, and just in time too. Delthea was able to make out her small gray duffel bag sitting atop some unruly-looking suitcases, along with some other pieces of luggage. It stood out like a sore thumb among the expensive-looking bags it was bordering. She reached over the sea of luggage and pulled her bag towards her. Once the bag was secure, she slung it over her shoulder.

She turned to Byleth. "Where's yours?"

Byleth raised a small black rucksack. He must have picked it up while she was getting her bag. It was unremarkably plain, just like hers.

"Right here."

"Okay, then," she announced, like she was checking off a list, "now wh—"

"Excuse me!"

Before Delthea managed to finish, someone tapped her small shoulder, calling out to her in a cheery voice—undoubtedly female. Turning, Delthea saw eye-catching pink, twintails dancing in front of her, attached to a well-dressed, and equally eye-catching, girl. Her pretty face was awash with worry.

Delthea didn't know how to respond for a second. What sort of business did she have with her?

"Uh, can I help you?" she asked hesitantly.

The pink-haired girl nodded feverishly, her bundles of hair bouncing in tandem. "Yeah. I'm tryna find my suitcase. I've been looking through this mountain for the last ten minutes, and I was wondering if anyone could have seen it first."

"What does it look like?" Byleth asked.

The girl held a finger to her face, several fashionable bangles jingling along her slender wrist. "Well, for starters. It's really big."

Delthea glanced back at the literal mountain of rich people bags.

"Yeah, that doesn't really narrow anything down, Miss…?"

The girl blinked a couple times.

"Oh! Where are my manners?"

She cleared her throat.

"I'm Hilda! Hilda Goneril" She exclaimed with a friendly smile. She stuck her hand out to shake Delthea's but Delthea had suddenly grown rigid, like she had been electrocuted.

Hilda looked at her curiously.

"Uh, hello?"

Delthea's lips trembled, her eyes wide. It suddenly all made sense why this girl so fashionably dressed. She exclaimed,

"Goneril? THE Goneril?!"

Byleth looked at Hilda before turning back to the bewildered Delthea. "Does that name mean anything?"

Delthea's eyes looked like they were ready to pop out of her sockets. "You've never heard of Goneril?! They're one of the Three Titans of the fashion world! Someone as backwater as me has heard of them!"

"Huh," was all Byleth said, not a shred of surprise on his face, as same as before with the mouthwash. Strangely, it seemed like Delthea was the only one freaking out.

Not many people along the docks seemed all that surprised at Hilda's being there. Sure there were few furtive glances that came her way, but no one seemed as surprised as Delthea was. They all carried along, taking their luggage, and minding their own business.

Delthea turned to face the pink-haired fashion mogul. "Are you really THE Hilda Goneril?"

The girl winked and stuck her tongue out. "Guilty as charged."

"A-a-and you're attending Heroes Academy?"

Hilda nodded. "Yep. Sure am."

And now for the ultimate question:

"Does that mean you're a Channeler as well?"

Delthea heard Byleth shift slightly behind her. Unlike before, he seemed interested now too.

Hilda looked at her and Byleth funny before sighing.

"Is this some sort of interview? Are there hidden cameras here I should be aware of?"

Delthea shook her head rapidly, waving her hands about. "No, no! I was just wondering, is all. I don't really know much about Heroes Academy or channeling in general. Sorry if I came off too forward."

Hilda giggled, much to Delthea's relief. "Oh, calm down. I wasn't accusing you of anything. I just wanted to know if I needed to primp up a little for the cameras. Photos don't come out so well at this hour's lighting, though I'm sure a cute girl like yourself would be aware of that."

Delthea felt her cheeks burn. It was not everyday you could be complimented by Hilda Goneril.

"Still, I don't think you introduced yourself?" Hilda said, beckoning towards her. "You are?"

_Gah! How could I forget!_

Delthea stood up, straightening her posture like a soldier at attention. Even though it was just saying her name, she felt a boatload of pressure.

"D-Delthea. Rivers! Delthea Rivers is my name!"

Hilda smiled warmly. "What a nice name." She patted looked over her shoulder. "And you'd be…?"

"Byleth," the boy said curtly. Strangely, he didn't give his last name.

"Lovely," Hilda announced before she rested her hand on Delthea's shoulder."And to answer your question, yes. I am a Channeler. Guess we'll be seeing more of each other at the academy, hm?"

Delthea was flabbergasted beyond comprehension. She was having a hard time believing it herself. Not only was she going to school with Byleth, but their class was about to be supplemented by one of the biggest names from around the world. And that very person happened to be Channeler just like her! Just what kind of school was this place to bring people of such standing?

Though Delthea's face was filled with awe and excitement at the prospect of attending school alongside a legitimate celebrity, Hilda's... fell a little short. It was unnoticeable at first—mostly due to Delthea excitement—but Delthea now took note of how Hilda was biting her lower hip faintly at the mention of the academy.

Hilda must have noticed her staring. A disarming smile quickly replaced the expression she wore prior.

"Something on my face, Delthea? Did I put too much eyeliner on?" she asked nonchalantly.

Her make-up was perfect. There was no way that someone like the Fashion Prodigy could make such a simple mistake. But Delthea before could point anything out, Byleth called over to the two from across the kiosk plaza. He had gone ahead of the two while they were talking.

"Is it this one?"

He must have found something that resembled Hilda's suitcase. How he was able to figure that out from the vague description Hilda gave boggled Delthea's mind. All Hilda had said was that her bag was "big" and not much else—

"Oh! You found it!" Hilda exclaimed, jumping excitedly

"What?"

Delthea looked to Byleth as well.

…

Actually, scratch that. What Hilda gave was a perfect description.

It was a large peach-colored suitcase with striking black lines running across its shell, perfectly complementing Hilda's outfit and appearance. It wasn't gaudily designed, but classy instead, just like its owner. The pinkish suitcase would've blended in perfectly alongside the countless other large bags surrounding it—if not for one strange quirk.

Attached to the body was a second shelled compartment that ran along its side, clearly housing something longer than the suitcase alone could handle. From the angle Delthea was looking, the suitcase looked like a chair put together by a novice craftsman—or a blind person—and belonged in a flea market.

Except, this ungodly looking thing belonged to one of the richest women in the entire world.

Delthea continued staring at the monstrosity as Hilda happily skipped her way towards the bag, winking a thank-you to Byleth. He curtly nodded in response, stepping aside. Almost immediately, Hilda struggled to untangle her suitcase from the myriad that surrounded it. Delthea casually made her way towards her, hands behind her back.

"What do you even have in there?" Delthea asked, intrigued at the suitcase's grotesque shape.

Hilda looked up from her shoulder. "Oh? This? Well, it's—Ah, before that. Hey, think you can help for a sec?"

Delthea knelt next to her. "What is it?"

Hilda pointed to a small, hidden bag that was squished between her suitcase and the other big one next to it.

"I think one its straps got lodged beneath the wheel on your end," she explained, clicking her tongue in disapproval. "Think you can remove it safely?"

A chance to prove herself to THE Hilda Goneril of all people? This wasn't a chance Delthea wanted to miss!

Her eyes darted to wheel Hilda mentioned. It was true. The small, grey backpack's right shoulder strap had gotten all tangled up with the bottom of Hilda's suitcase. It was one of those novelty bags with thin band straps that could be pulled to tighten the top of the backpack. In other words, too rich—and complicated—for Delthea's blood. She wondered what on earth the poor bag went through to end up in such a sorry heap. It would be a mess to untangle.

Byleth hovered next to her, eyeing the backpack disaster. "Need any—"

Delthea quickly shook her head. "No, I think I got this."

"Alright."

His tone didn't sound like he doubted her, but it didn't sound like he trusted her to get the job done either.

But she couldn't let this moment slip by! Not only was it a chance for her to prove to Hilda she was capable, but also an opportunity for Delthea to make up for that sorry display back on the boat. She hadn't forgotten her debt—which remained unpaid—to Byleth. She didn't want to rack up those interest rates.

Delthea gingerly fingered the knots and tangles of the bag's bands. She tried using her fingernails to dislodge the tight knots that locked the bag in place. It was like trying to shove her finger into a keyhole.

"Is… everything alright?"

Delthea turned to see Hilda looking at her, concerned. Delthea must have been making a weird face.

"Hm? Oh! Y-yeah," Delthea said, trying to play off as if it were no big deal, her hands working at a feverish pace. "Just gotta… undo these binds here."

She prayed that whoever owned this bag kept their receipt.

After several more seconds of persistence, several of the knots she had been fingering started to get loose.

_Almost there!_

Carefully, Delthea began to unwind the tangles from the spokes of the suitcase wheels, making sure to guide the bands in and out of each other, to ensure they didn't tangle again. Her fingertips felt like they were getting raw from how tightly she had been pressing them against the bands.

Soon enough, the last tangle was undone. The grey bag had finally been dislodged.

"Phew…" Delthea sighed, dusting off her sore hands as she set the freed bag on her lap. "That does it."

"Nice work!" Hilda cheered, slapping her on the back. Delthea winced. She didn't expect Hilda was capable of hitting that hard, not with those dainty, maidenly arms of hers.

"With hands like that, you may have a future with accessory work," Hilda said, praising her deftness.

Delthea never felt prouder of her noodly limbs—who had all but betrayed her back on the ship.

"Gee, you think so—Oh shoot!"

She forgot she left the bag atop her lap as she got up. This wouldn't have posed a problem normally, but with all the tugging and loosening Delthea had done with the bands, the bag had loosened open.

Its contents spilled out onto the floor below, causing Delthea to jump back a little. Thankfully, there wasn't all that much in it. Some notebooks, a neatly folded—but now undone—jacket, and a curious rectangular black case. The case in question clattered loudly against the concrete floor, attracting the attention of several people passing by. Delthea quickly reached for it to alleviate the commotion.

She had to check for damages.

To her surprise, the case was heavier than it looked. It was smaller than the notebooks that came out of the same bag but weighed nearly tenfold more. Whatever was inside, weighed a ton for its size.

It was a hardened black shell made of a material Delthea couldn't figure out. It wasn't metal, wood, or plastic, but it was probably pretty expensive. It was laced with a frame, which pieced the black outer shell together. Other than the gleaming silver frame, there were no other eye catching designs on the case, aside from the latches.

One on end, there were two silver latches that probably served to open the case. Delthea was partially tempted to open it but the keyhole that was rested in between the latches dissuaded her.

She shook her head. Now was not the time to think that! She had to check for damages!

She glanced around the side that scraped against the floor. There was a small dent and a number of tiny scrapes that marred the black sheen of the case. Delthea breathed through her teeth, a sensation of foreboding hitting the pit of her stomach. It was the same feeling she got that one time she mishandled a guest's belongings. Lu almost made her quit working for that reason alone.

Hilda came over to her, eyes on the black case. "Is it badly damaged?"

Delthea nervously shrugged her shoulders. "Depends on who's asking."

"Lemme see it," Hilda said, motioning for Delthea to hand the case over to her. She obliged.

"Okay—whoa!" Hilda nearly dropped the case a second time. "What's inside this thing? Bricks?"

"Maybe."

Hilda didn't respond, but her eyes did. They were in full work mode. Different from the look she had before, her eyes taking on a much sharper, professional gaze. She inspected it for a few moments, flipping it around several times. She even rapped her knuckles against the flat side of the case. Delthea couldn't really tell what she was doing but it looked cool, so it had to be legit. This was THE Hilda Goneril after all.

"Well," she remarked after checking the case several times over, tilting it. "I have come to a conclusion."

Delthea looked at her expectantly, her heart pounding in anticipation of some good news.

Hilda shrugged her shoulders.

"H-huh?"

"I don't know." Hilda answered, grinning sheepishly, waving her hands for emphasis.

Delthea could feel her mental image of Hilda Goneril slowly begin to crack.

Byleth, who had been quietly observing the two the whole time, stepped towards them. His eyes were narrowed, transfixed on the black case, as if they were trying to drill a hole through it. Something about it must have rubbed him the wrong way.

"Mind if I see it?"

Hilda handed it over without delay. "All yours, pal."

Byleth took the case without hesitation. To Delthea's surprise, the weight of it seemed to have caught him off guard too. His brows furrowed for a moment when the case was relieved from Hilda and unto him. Shifting gears, he took his thumb and ran it along the side of the case, as if he were wiping it down. Delthea should have been looking at the case but her eyes started to wander elsewhere, namely Byleth's mouth. She wasn't thinking of anything indecent, I swear.

Curiously, Delthea saw Byleth open his mouth and close it several times, like he was murmuring something to himself silently. It was the same thing he did back on the ship, when he was treating her for seasickness.

_Was it a bad habit? Or was something… wrong with Byleth?_

"Looks like your boyfriend knows what he's doing."

An alien noise erupted from Delthea, sounding like a cross between a cough, laugh, and scream.

Hilda whipped out a handkerchief out of seemingly nowhere and handed it to her.

"Er, you okay there…?"

Delthea turned away, shooing away the handkerchief, assuring the confused girl that she was alright. To be frank, she was not okay. This line of dialogue was not good for her heart. But for some reason, she didn't want to deny what Hilda said either.

_Boyfriend._

That word had a nice ring to it. But is that what she thought of Byleth? The two had known each other for only several hours at best. And Delthea wasn't the type to waltz in to a relationship willy-nilly. She had standards!... Even if they were exceeded by this mysterious boy.

_It… wouldn't be THAT bad…_

Hilda's chuckling broke Delthea from her thoughts. She looked at the giggling girl curiously.

"What's so funny?" Delthea asked.

Hilda gave her a sly look. "Oh, nothing."

It definitely wasn't nothing.

Delthea's face went red but she didn't turn away like before. Now that Hilda basically knew the truth, Delthea had to at least straighten things out.

"It's not like that."

Hilda grinned widely. "Whatever you say, Delthea. Though, if you aren't going to—"

"Hilda! There you are!"

A booming voice echoed over the air, rattling Delthea's—and everyone in a hundred foot radius—eardrums. It was deep and vigorous. Quite the manly tone. Shockingly, Hilda seemed unfazed at this auditory cannon blast. In fact, she just looked mildly annoyed.

Folding her arms, she opened her mouth.

"Baltie, where were you this entire time?" Her voice was fiercely stern. It made Delthea jump.

But she wasn't the only to. Hilda's voice was directed at a hulking figure that shambled towards them. Delthea had to rub her eyes to make sure they weren't playing tricks on her. It was an older boy—though calling him a man would probably be more appropriate. He sure as hell looked like one.

He had long, wild blaek hair that was slicked back at the top, making his hair appear like a mane of a black lion. His face didn't retain any boyish charm like Byleth's. Rather, it bore the ruggedness of a man through and through, and the glint in his dark eyes matched too. On top of looking so fierce, he was built like an ox.

The boy (or man?!) towered over the two girls, and was even taller than Byleth and had muscles for days. Delthea wasn't really all that attracted to ripped muscle men but even she was impressed by his physique. You could probably cut diamonds on those well-toned pecs and abs. His shirt was doing a poor job of hiding them.

And this man (or boy?!) winced at Hilda's voice. Baltie, or whatever Hilda called him, was being lectured by a girl who barely came up to his chest. The two began arguing about something. Actually, it was mostly one-sided scolding from Hilda, with the boy wryly laughing off the verbal onslaught.

A bizarre turn of events.

_Just what is the connection between the two?_

Delthea tip-toed over to them, midst their tirade. She tapped Hilda on the shoulder.

"What is it?" Hilda asked in a gentle voice that betrayed nothing of the fierceness she displayed while arguing. This girl was a pro.

It was time to put that to the test.

Delthea pointed at the boy. "Is he your boyfriend?"

A mild look of distaste crossed her face while the boy erupted with laughter. Delthea didn't think what she said was all that funny but the boy gripped his sides as he hollered on.

"No." Hilda said curtly, leaving no further room for discussion.

The boy wiped tears from his eyes as he calmed down. "Phew! Man, if Holst heard that! Laughed so hard I nearly puked!"

"Baltie…"

He chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "Whoops. Sorry. I'm not the cleanest person to talk with." He turned back to Hilda, pointing a finger at Delthea. "Who's the cub?"

"Oh, hush up your weird pet names, Baltie," Hilda reprimanded, slapping him on the arm. Hard. Delthea could only imagine how much that would have hurt.

"This is Delthea. And that's Byleth over there. They're prospective classmates at Heroes."

A look of amazement came over the large boy. "Really? No shit?"

"Balthus Albrecht, I swear on my brother's name—"

"My bad, Hilda." He apologized rather unapologetically. He seemed brash, but wasn't intentionally rude or mean-spirited. Delthea knew some people like that back home. That was probably why she wasn't too taken aback. His muscles still freaked her out though.

Batlhus, his full name, walked on over to Delthea. "So, Delthea, you're a Channeler, too?"

Delthea nodded. Up close, the boy wasn't all that menacing, which assured her. Though his thick eyebrows made his glare seem intense, upon a closer look, they were actually warm and friendly.

He grinned excitedly. "Sweet. What's your affinity?"

… _Huh?_

"A-affinity?"

Affinity? What affinity? What was Balthus talking about? What does that even mean? She knew next to nothing about channeling! Well, she had to think of something! Balthus was eagerly waiting for her answer.

"It's… a secret."

A boldfaced lie. She had no idea what they were talking about. Delthea hoped her poker face was good enough.

Balthus went quiet, scratching the tip of his nose. He pursed his lips and nodded.

"I see."

Miraculously, that answer seemed to satisfy Balthus. He didn't egg her on further. Instead, a look of surprise washed over him.

"Oh, shit!" he exclaimed. It was so loud, even Hilda visibly reacted.

"Balthus!"

"Yeah, yeah. My B, Hilda," he said, "but forget about that for a sec. I completely forgot something else entirely!"

Delthea and Hilda held their hands to their ears. Hilda looked up at the boy with annoyance. "What is it now?"

"I was helping this girl out, and I was wondering if you could help her too."

"Ugh, you and women, Balthus Albrecht, I swear—"

Delthea would have missed her had she not seen Balthus pull the girl through the sea of luggage. She was shorter than both Hilda and Delthea, which was a record that Delthea reserved for children younger than her back home. The girl was wearing a large black hoodie sweater that was much too big for her. The sleeves outran her arms and came down to her thighs. Despite being in front of others, she kept on the hood, hiding most of her face. Strands of long white hair poked out from under the hood. By her rigid posture, this girl didn't seem all that pleased.

"Sorry about that," Balthus said apologetically to the girl. "Kinda got carried away for a sec."

The girl said nothing as she stood in place. Hilda looked at her with concern.

"Is she lost? Do we need to help find her parents?"

"No, actually she—"

But instead of waiting for Hilda and Balthus to figure something out, the hoodied girl walked past Hilda. She marched straight to where Byleth was standing. Delthea had nearly forgotten that Byleth was there the whole time, inspecting the black case. What business did this girl have with Byleth?

To Delthea's, and everyone's shock, the hoodied girl snatched the black case out of Byleth's hands without as much as saying a word.

"Hey! What's the big idea?" Delthea yelled. Even Hilda was shocked.

But the girl ignored Delthea's reprimanding. Instead, she went on to pick up the small backpack that was on the floor next to Hilda's suitcase, stuffing all the scattered contents into the bag. Slinging it over her shoulders, she trudged back to where the three were standing. Delthea could feel the girl's staring beneath her hood. The girl was gripping her backpack strap so hard, Delthea could see the white of the hooded girl's knuckles along the pale skin of her hands.

"Don't dig through people's things." The girl spat, her voice filled with venom. She began to storm away from them but stopped in her tracks. She turned briefly, her gaze stopping at Balthus.

It looked like she had some things to say. Instead, she simply shook her head. She then, shockingly, turned to face Delthea of all people. She glared daggers at her.

And then she ran, melting in the crowd beyond the kiosk. In a matter of seconds, she was gone. Delthea didn't catch much of her face or her name. All they really knew was that the backpack she happened to nearly destroy—and unintentionally dig through—belonged to the girl.

"Really blew the hooch on that one," Balthus sighed, straightening out his back. "But I guess she found what she was looking for."

"Don't beat yourself over it, Baltie," Hilda said gently. "It's me and my stupid suitcase's fault."

"I knew it was too big."

"Okay. Listen here, buster—"

As the lovebirds argued, Delthea looked over at Byleth. He hadn't moved from where he was standing. His eyes were glued to where the girl had run off to. He seemed to be saying something to himself again—his mouth was moving. Delthea went over to him.

"Something the matter?" Delthea asked.

Byleth looked at her with initial surprise. He was so wrapped up with himself, he missed her coming. Odd. He quickly shook his head.

"Nothing major," he said.

Delthea folded her arms. "That means that there IS something then."

Byleth didn't say anything. Instead, he reached down and pulled something up from under Hilda's suitcase. In his hands was a small leather booklet with a cute teddy bear sewn on its cover along with the initials: L.O.

It was likely a journal.

"She left this behind."

Delthea took the booklet from Byleth. In her hands, she felt how weathered the journal was, telling of its age. Some of the stitching along the spine and cover were loose and undone. The teddy looked like it had seen better days too.

But for someone to carry such an old thing around, it was definitely something precious. Something that couldn't be replaced with money. It reminded her of her own wallet. She had it for as long as she could remember. It was tattered and old, but it was worth more than the money it carried. And likely, this journal carried something precious within its covers.

"This is—"

Byleth nodded. "It fell out as she was putting everything back into her bag. She was in a rush and probably didn't notice."

Delthea sighed, feeling the weight of the worn journal in her hands. "Great. Not only does she think we are some weird bag diggers, but she'll also think we stole her journal. We don't even know who she—"

"Lysithea von Ordelia."

Delthea turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "What?"

"That's her name."

"How did you—"

Byleth held up his hand, looking as cool as ever while doing something so damning. In it, was a small opened envelope containing an ID card and a letter. In fine black ink, Delthea could make out who the envelope was addressed to.

**To Lysithea von Ordelia, 2****nd**** Place Winner of the month's Channeling Exhibition**

Delthea felt a headache coming along.

Not only had they taken something from a complete stranger. That complete stranger turned out to be some Channeling champion! Delthea realized how lucky that they had gotten off earlier when caught red-handed. She turned to Byleth.

"Why do you have this?"

"Fell out of her bag."

Delthea groaned. "Then you should have told her tha—"

"Ooh, something fun happening here?"

Hilda joined the two next to the bags, a hop in her step. You would have never guessed that she was the one sort of responsible for this entire mess based on how she was.

"No, not really." Delthea grumbled, fumbling with the journal in her hands. "Where's Balthus?"

Hilda sighed. "Oh, Baltie bolted off as soon as we finished. He went after her. He looks all big and tough, but he's a big softie."

"So he's got a big heart."

Hilda grumbled. "I wish his brain was that big. Now who's going to carry my luggage for me?"

Delthea looked over at the unholy suitcase.

_Yeah. That wasn't going to be fun._

"Anyway," Hilda said, changing the subject, "what's up with you guys? Sounds like you two were in a bit of a spat?"

Delthea shook her head. "No, nothing serious. Just…"

She looked at the journal in her hands.

Hilda peered down and bit her lip once she saw what Delthea held.

"That was that girl's, wasn't it?"

Delthea nodded.

"We know her name at least." Byleth chimed in.

"Which is?"

"Lysithea von Ordelia." Delthea answered. "I know, it's a mouthful—"

"Wait, what did you say?"

Delthea was taken aback. Upon hearing the girl's name, Hilda's eyes had gone wide.

"Lysithea von Ordelia." Delthea repeated.

Hilda then showed an anguished expression, groaning.

"I was wondering why she looked so familiar," Delthea heard her mutter. "Didn't think she'd be that short but…"

Delthea looked at Hilda uncomfortably. "Does that name mean anything?"

Hilda folded her arms. "For outsiders, not really. But for Channelers like us, the Ordelia name is huge."

Delthea's curiosity was now piqued. "Why?"

"They have strong Channeling blood." Byleth interrupted. "And she's quite the gifted one, they say. She's got quite the nickname too."

Delthea stared at him. "Forget about the nickname. How do YOU know that?"

Byleth held up the envelope again. "The letter inside. It details her accomplishments. She's quite the star as of late."

She gasped. "You can't be digging through people's things like that!" She shot forward to confiscate the envelope from him. As she did, Delthea felt something slip from the journal in her hands. A small white slip had fallen to the concrete ground below. It shone like a beacon against the dark concrete. Delthea reached down to pick it up.

Hilda looked at the slip in Delthea's hands.

"What's that?"

Delthea's face went pale.

"Uh, Hilda?"

"What's up?"

Delthea's eyes were bound to the slip.

"How do we get from here to the academy?"

Hilda scratched her cheek, resting her other hand on her hip. "Train. Why?"

Delthea furrowed her brows and bit her lip. She flipped the slip over for all to see.

It was a train ticket, with Lysithea's name on it.

And it was bound to leave in less than seven minutes.

* * *

**(A/N): **

**Thanks for reading. As always, if you have any questions or criticisms, leave 'em below or PM me. Stay healthy everyone.**

**Have yourselves a damn good one.**


	4. Chapter 4: Delayed Stop

**Author's Notes: Wow. This is delayed. Sorry. April was the absolute worst. COVID-19 is shaping up to quite the monster.**

**I don't know if I will be back on schedule in two weeks, but we'll see. Anyway, here's the next chapter to stave off that hunger for you 15 or so readers.**

**Please enjoy. PM if any questions.**

* * *

Delthea ran as fast as she could, her boots clacking against the neatly paved stone pathway of the station. After passing under the grand archway of the entrance, she dashed down the large flight of stairs leading to the station's boarding area, gliding her hand over the rails to make sure she didn't slip.

It was fortunate she packed light, her small duffel bag hanging snugly at her shoulders. Running around with a huge bag on her back would have been impossible. She saw how much Hilda was struggling with that suitcase of hers. Even if she wasn't sick like before, Delthea wouldn't have been able to carry the suitcase, let alone with one hand.

Hilda was that strong.

Seriously.

Though the queasiness in her stomach had subsided a while ago, a general uneasy feeling clung to her body. It was like a warning her body was broadcasting to her, telling her that she wasn't exactly 100%. That much was obvious. The day had been a doozy thus far.

But more than that, she felt something else. The weight of the journal—and the ticket it carried—felt like boulders in her small hands. While she was running, she was thinking of ways she would be able to casually give the journal back to that girl, Lysithea.

_Here's the journal that fell out because we dug through your stuff. Sorry!_

"Like hell that's gonna work!" She yelled, jumping down the last couple steps. Her feet rattled from the impact a bit, but she wasted no time in picking up the pace. She started weaving through the milling crowd. She had to hop over suitcases strewn in front of her just to avoid tripping. As the sole carrier of the journal, she had to avoid falling—and losing it—at all costs.

Delthea had split up from Byleth and Hilda. Initially, all three of them rushed to the station as a group, but Byleth suggested they search the station separately to cover more ground. With only about four minutes left since they arrived, they were out of options. They split at the entrance. Byleth would cover the western end of the station, leaving the eastern side to Hilda and Delthea. And for some reason, the journal was left with Delthea.

To be accurate, Hilda left it with her. She claimed that Delthea would be more careful than she was and be able to cover more ground, given that Hilda herself was lugging around a gargantuan suitcase. Delthea wanted to argue on how easily Hilda was able to move with her bag in tow, but there was no time.

She had to get the journal—and the ticket it held within—to Lysithea.

"Excuse me!" Delthea announced, squeezing her way through the waves of students. They all gave her dirty looks as she passed, but their gazes paled in comparison to one Lysithea left her with earlier.

_Why did she look at me like that?_

The answer was obvious. They messed around and technically looked through her stuff. Anyone would be upset with that alone.

But at the time, Byleth was the only one who had any of Lyisthea's possessions in hand. He was checking up on the black case that fell out of Lysithea's bag when Balthus arrived in tow with her. If Lysithea truly was angry at them for touching her stuff, which she clearly was, she should have been glaring at Byleth.

_But she didn't._

Even though she gave everyone a scathing remark before storming off, Lysithea funneled her seething eyes only towards Delthea. Well, technically not just her. Lysithea did look at Balthus before looking at her, but her gaze then was nowhere near the boiling point as it was when she looked at Delthea. It felt too angry. Like it was something personal.

_Does she know me?_

Not possible. Lysithea wasn't from the village and Delthea didn't really venture beyond her home all that much.

Her village was a small rural inlet, at a fork where the rivers met the sea. Despite neighboring a fishing harbor with many ships going in and out, her village was pretty secluded from the rest of the world. That wasn't to say the village was ignorant of the larger world. Word does have a way of getting around, even in a small and limited place like her home. The inn's guests did a good job of helping with that.

The family inn was situated close to the riverbanks, giving guests a picturesque view of the river's fork to the sea. It was a big reason why people even came out to that far side of the world.

Because of how small her village was, everyone in the village knew—or at least had heard of—one another. If Lysithea really was from the village, her name would have rang a bell. All it did now was ring up a headache.

"Sorry, please let me through!" Delthea exclaimed, slipping by a group of people waiting by the support beams that held up the station's magnificent glass ceiling. They were too bewildered by the brown-headed blur to even register a proper response or insult.

_Had she visited the inn before?_

If she had, it wasn't like Delthea to forget a guest's face or name. Reading Lysithea's name off her letter didn't elicit anything. Hilda and Byleth had both said something about how respected the von Ordelia name was in the Channeling community, but even that didn't resurrect any potential memories.

Despite Delthea's lack of interest in Channeling, she wouldn't have forgotten an odd tidbit like, especially about a guest.

Her family's inn did house odd visitors from time to time. Rich and eccentric folks occasionally turned up on her far side of the world. Something about the village's seclusion appealed to them, Delthea supposed.

But seclusion sucks. It was why she was so hungry to leave home and its troubles in the first place.

Funnily enough, trouble had a knack for following her.

And talking about trouble, time was running out!

Delthea's eyes darted around the station. Clocks hung over the three tunneled arches where the trains would arrive and leave through. But Delthea couldn't make out the hands all that well from where she was. The gathering crowd was just that thick.

Thankfully, she didn't have to look at the clocks. The general unrest and antsiness of the station crowd told her as much. And it told her she was running out of time.

_I really need to hurry u—_

"O—oogh!"

A flash of white. Stars began twirling behind her eyelids. The station warped into a whirlpool.

She collided with something. Hard.

Delthea fell backwards onto her butt with a thud, spreading her hands backwards to brace her fall.

Her hands did little to lessen the impact. A jolt ran down her legs and up her spine, accompanied by a rippling wave of pain up her thin arms from the awkward angle she landed. Everything was so sudden, it was a miracle nothing was bent and twisted out of place. She didn't even have a chance to cry out in pain.

After a couple seconds, the station returned to her vision, the stars having subsided. They were quickly replaced with tears. Delthea remembered learning as a kid how closely tied crying was with the nose, along with how sensitive it was to pain. She thought she had grown out of running face first into things.

After swiping away the tears with the palm of her hand, Delthea saw that people had gathered around her. Her little crash attracted quite the crowd. Whispers and hushed voices rippled through the people that circled around her. They were so muddled together, Delthea couldn't make out a coherent word people were saying about her. Regardless her ears burned with embarrassment.

The silver lining was she landed on her bottom. No telling what would have happened if she fell any other way, especially while wearing a skirt. She might committed seppuku on the spot had she not been carrying the journal in her hand—

…

Where was the journal?

As stiff as they were, Delthea loosened her arms from her side and checked her hands. They were empty.

_Oh no._

Think! Where was the last place she could have—

_The collision!_

The journal was still in her hands when she ran into something. She remembered she was still holding as she spread her hands out behind her to brace for impact. She must have lost hold of the journal then.

_I have to find it!_

Delthea immediately got to her knees and scoured for the journal. If she lost it, this entire ordeal would have been for zilch. She couldn't bear thinking about what sort of faces Hilda and Byleth would make to her if they learned what she had done. Hilda entrusted the journal to her after all.

… _No, wait. "Entrusting" wasn't exactly accurate._

More like,—

She shook her head. She was wasting time! She had to find it!

But no matter where her eyes turned to, all Delthea's eyes saw were people's shuffling feet. No journal was in sight. And even if it were somewhere in that forest of legs and shoes, it would have been trampled underfoot. Being such a beat-up looking, old journal, people wouldn't have thought twice about stepping on it. She felt like crying for real now.

Then she heard it, echoing across the station.

It was a bit in the distance, but the piercing howl was unmistakable.

The train was soon going to pull into the station.

Delthea's heart sank to her knees, her stomach tying itself into a knot.

She gritted her teeth, rolling her hands into fists and driving them into the ground. She hung her head.

To quote Balthus, she "really blew the hooch" on this one.

Apologies swirled in her mind. How the hell was she going to explain this? That she wasn't paying attention and the journal wisped out of existence? Fat chance anyone would believe a half-assed excuse like that! It would have been improbable as the journal falling out of the sky and landing right square in her lap, like that beat-up looking rectangular brown thing that was resting on her very lap—

…

"I believe that is yours?"

It was the journal! It came back to her! But how? Did God answer her prayer? Did she just witness a miracle? Did someone just say something to her?

… _wait, something feels familiar about all this…_

Delthea looked up.

If her heart could sink any further, it would have reached the core's planet.

She realized how much she had messed up. Big time.

What she ran into earlier wasn't a wall or column.

It was a person.

Maybe it was because she was on the ground, but this person towered over her like… well, a tower. Though the roof of the station was glass, the sun was behind their head, preventing her from making out their face all that well. But it didn't take 20/20 vision to see that this person was probably even taller than Byleth was, and just as built… which explained why it felt like Delthea had charged into a brick wall.

With a large hand, they reached towards her and…

_Oh crap. I'm in for it now…_

She braced for the chewing out of a lifetime and—

"Can you get up?"

"H-huh?"

Being picked up from the ground seemed like a recurring theme today.

The hand that helped her up eclipsed hers, much like Byleth's had. However, its touch was a dash bit colder and lighter, as if the person was afraid of touching her. Which was strange, given that this individual extended their hand first.

And it wasn't a "they."

It was a "he."

With the sun out of her eyes, Delthea was able to finally make out who helped her up—and saved her ass. Not her literal ass, no. It was still aching a bit. She'd probably be feeling it even tomorrow.

He was another prospective student headed to Heroes Academy.

If there was a picture in the dictionary for "prim and proper," this boy's face would be it. Tall, blonde-haired, fair-skinned. Wearing an outfit that resembled a uniform of sorts—neatly-ironed black slacks, white dress shirt, a maroon blazer, to be precise—he looked just the part of an ideal upper class student.

Delthea wouldn't have minded checking him out a little more if it wasn't for the little predicament sitting in her hands—literally.

"Are you alright?" the boy asked. His soft blue eyes peeked from beneath his blonde bangs, awaiting her words.

Delthea nodded wordlessly, promptly letting go of his hand. She didn't want to make the same mistake twice on the same day.

She must have been too rough when letting go of the boy's hand. His eyes widened in surprise at the way she suddenly pulled her hand away, leaving his empty hand to stay aloft for a brief moment. He then quickly retracted it.

"My apologies," he said, bowing his head like a gentleman. "Did I grab your hand too hard?"

_What's with this guy?_

Delthea shook her head profusely and raised her hand to assure that he had done no harm.

"N-no! Why are you apologizing? If anything, I should be! I RAN into YOU, y'know?"

The boy merely waved his hand and chuckled. "Please. It'll take more than that to hurt me. I am quite capable of taking a beating."

He gave her a reassuring smile without missing a beat, despite saying something so ominous to someone he barely just met. He came off so sincere, Delthea couldn't tell if the boy was joking or actually being serious.

Delthea had no idea what to say in response to something like that.

"But seriously. Sorry." She said quickly, covering her tracks. "… And thank you."

She raised the journal.

The boy shook his head. "Think nothing of it." He then brought a hand to his chin before pointing to her. "I do believe you were in a hurry though?"

A barely audible "Oh crap" escaped Delthea's lips before she swiftly turned around. She nearly stumbled again when she realized she was walled in by a literal river of people flowing towards the yellow boarding line.

"Gah, where did all these people come from?" she grumbled, trying to find a gap she could go through. She wasted too much time exchanging pleasantries! She had no time for this! How the hell was she going to find a short girl like Lysithea in this mess?

"Something the matter?" the boy asked, concerned. He must have heard her despite all the noise of the crowd. He made his way towards her.

"There's plenty of space on the train for everyone, if that's what you're concerned about."

She shook her head. "That isn't it." She held up the journal again. "I've gotta get this to someone. Fast."

"I see. In that case—"

The boy suddenly became quiet. His earlier smile disappeared from his face.

Delthea raised her eyebrow. "Wh-what? What did you go quiet on me for?"

He held up his hand, motioning her to be silent as well. Delthea found herself surprisingly following after the strange boy. It was then she realized that the bustling crowd around her—no, the entire station—had become eerily silent. So silent, Delthea was sure people around her could hear the beating of her impatient heart.

But people didn't care. Their gaze was fixed somewhere else. The crowd had all but frozen in place, their attention turned to something far down the station.

And within the silence, Delthea began to hear what the crowd—and the boy—had heard.

It was hard to make out at first, her eardrums rattling from her heartbeat. But after a few seconds of intense focus, Delthea was sure she could hear yelling… followed shortly after by a piercing howling noise. It wasn't a noise a human could make. No, it was something more like—

"The train," the boy said, as if he were finishing her thought. "We heard that exact sound earlier."

It was true. Delthea did remember hearing the howl of a horn earlier as she desperately crawled on all fours to look for Lysithea's journal. It meant that the train was pulling into the station. It was why so many people had pulled up to the boarding line. That was minutes ago… and if that were true—

"But where's the train?" Delthea asked, looking around.

Nothing had pulled into the station. The tracks to her left remained train free as can be. Her gaze eventually turned back to the boy, who seemed to have figured something out. The hardened expression he wore on his face told her as much.

The boy turned to where the crowd was looking. Delthea was a bit too short to see past everyone's shoulders and couldn't make out anything. Being short had its downsides.

"To think that they'd do that HERE of all places" The boy muttered, a tinge of derision in his voice. "We're bound for some unruly classmates this year."

"Doing… what?" Delthea asked. Her heart was no longer beating from impatience. The iron in the boy's voice sent a chill down her spine, changing the tune of her heart to that of worry. "What are you talking about?"

But before she got an answer out of him, the boy began wading his way through the sea of people in front of him.

"Hey!" Delthea cried out, calling out to him. "Wait! You didn't answer my—"

But her words fell on deaf ears. He only continued pushing through the crowd. With every step, Delthea saw less and less of his receding figure.

Around her was a sea of people that she had no chance of plowing through. She would never be able to find Lysithea standing where she was. On the other hand, if she followed after the boy, she would actually be able to traverse the crowd, just like how she had with Byleth. It could take her to where Lysithea might be, as well as answer the mystery of the strange noise—or it could all blow up in her face. It was a gamble.

She looked at the journal in her hands and the boy's quickly disappearing frame.

She did this twice. The second glance honestly didn't help as much as she thought it would

"Gah! Dammit!" she spat as she shoved the journal into her duffel bag, zipping it up tight.

She chased after the boy.

* * *

The train still hadn't arrived, despite the scheduled time listed on the ticket. Delthea prayed that it would stay that way for the time being.

Following after the boy was a much easier task than she thought. Similar to what Byleth did earlier, the boy cleared his way forward with ease. With that physique of his, anyone foolish enough would be pushed to the side. But it never came to that. In fact, the people here seemed to give the blonde-haired boy a sizable berth as he walked through. They all moved out of his path. The boy was much more ahead than she was but the path the crowd paved gave Delthea ample space to catch up without getting tangled.

As she got closer, Delthea began to catch wind of the circling whispers around her, left in the boy's wake.

"… no freakin' way…"

"… was that him…?"

"… had to be…"

"… but where is…?"

The whispers partially explained why people moved out of the boy's way. He seemed to have a reputation. What sort of reputation that was, Delthea couldn't really figure out. She didn't hear enough. A part of her wanted to stick around and breathe in some more of that juicy gossip but she'd end up getting lost in the crowd if she did. She had to stick close.

The boy never realized Delthea was trailing him the whole time. All he cared about was the strange noise they heard earlier and something about "unruly classmates."

Delthea remembered the faint yelling she heard. She couldn't make out the words being thrown around but noticed how the entire station became quiet because of it. To do that, it couldn't have been some petty argument. It seemed way too serious to be brushed off as such.

Why it all mattered to the boy, she could not guess nor was she all that interested. What she was curious about was the commotion. Her mind swirled with thoughts, trying to guess what the problem could have been. But no matter how hard she thought, each guess was shot down by one singular detail:

The weird howling noise.

No human dispute could ever produce a sound like that, not even lovers' quarrels, as heated as those could get.

Before long, Delthea had caught up to the boy. It was an easy enough task, given he had stopped in his tracks. Pushing past several shoulders one final time, Delthea reached the edge of the crowd, finally arriving at the source of all the commotion.

"Wh-what the hell is this?" she muttered in confusion.

Two students, a well-dressed, long-haired boy and a hooded girl, were standing off. To be accurate, the girl was standing still while the boy paced side to side, like a predator would stare down its prey. In the boy's hands was a curved instrument, a glowing beam of light traveling from one curved end to the other. It looked fierce as much as it was otherworldly. Delthea could hear its growl-like humming from where she stood. The boy had it poised and ready, holding it in front of him, pointed at the hooded girl.

That oversized black hoodie looked familiar…

… _Holy shit. _She'd apologize for her profanity later.

"Lysith—Hey!"

Just as Delthea was about to call out her name, someone pulled her back into the crowd, away from the edge. Their large, cold fingers wrapped around her wrist like a vise, refusing to let go no matter how hard she slapped the hand away. Spinning around, she glared at the person who gave her the rough treatment.

It was the blonde-haired boy.

"Ow!" She yelped, continually smacking the boy's hand. "What the hell d'you think you're doing?"

The boy's eyes widened as his grip immediately loosened. He probably didn't mean to grab as hard as he did. Seizing the brief opportunity, Delthea yanked her hand free.

"What happened to that gentlemanly attitude from before?" she grumbled, massaging her sore wrist with her thumb. "Don't tell me you treat all girls like this."

The boy shook his head, "N-no! Of course not—Wait, that's not important!"

"Excuse me?"

The exasperated boy took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. The air around them was already tense. Delthea's jabs didn't help in the slightest.

If the mood wasn't so serious, she would have found herself amused at his antics, would have found it cute, even. But the new glint in his eyes told her that he wasn't exactly in the mood to fool around.

"You shouldn't interfere," he finally said in a hushed voice. "You're going to get hurt."

"Hurt? What are you talking about?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. She then pointed at the scene with her eyes. "And what's going on?"

The boy sighed, running his hand through his hair. "I take it you're not familiar with Channeler traditions?"

Delthea narrowed her eyes. The boy was right. She wasn't familiar. But the tone of his voice rubbed her the wrong way. He probably didn't mean it but it still came off as condescending. However, this was no place to throw a temper tantrum.

Swallowing back her "witty" comments, she nodded.

The boy cupped his chin. "I see. Then let me explain what you are about to see."

Nobody was paying her and the boy any mind, but the boy leaned in and whispered in her ear.

"It's a Channeler's Duel."

Delthea blinked and looked at the boy blankly.

"A what?"

He didn't look like he was pulling her leg. His eyes, as clear as they were, were dead serious. Unshaking.

"It's a duel between Channelers." He explained, pointing at the two students. The crowd began to step back, giving them ample room. "Though, I didn't expect it to be in a place like this…"

She gulped.

"D-duel as in… fighting?"

The boy nodded. "They're usually conducted between Channelers to handle disagreements and slights to their honor. You jumping in would only throw you in the crossfire." He then glared at the two students, narrowing his eyes. "And I feel that this is a bit more personal."

_Personal._

Delthea was reminded of how Lysithea glared her back at the baggage kiosk. What sort of mess did that girl get herself into?

Delthea tugged on the boy's sleeve, getting his attention. "Why though?"

To that, the boy simply shrugged, a cynical look on his face. "Traditions die hard. Especially Duels… Though they say that fighting is the great equalizer amongst Channelers."

She turned back to the unfolding duel. The long-haired boy was at least a head-and-a-half taller than Lysithea was. On top of that, he had that strange looking thing in his hands, still glowing ominously. Lysithea stared him down with nothing on her but the clothes on her back—including her backpack, can't forget about that.

She shook her head. "Equal, my ass." She thumbed towards the ridiculously long-haired boy. "How the hell is any of what I'm seeing fair? He's got a spankin' weapon!"

The boy was unfazed at her outburst.

"And yet the girl does not have a scratch on her."

Delthea turned back. Blonde boy was right. Lysithea was indeed shorter and unarmed next to her opponent, but she looked about as clean as a whistle. Not a single splotch of dirt or dust could be seen on that oversized sweater of hers.

She didn't cower away from her opponent either. Instead, she stared him down and stood her ground. The only thing that moved was the long strands of white hair that peeked out from her hood, swaying from her measured breaths.

"She's… not nervous at all," Delthea found out.

"If it really was unfair," the boy continued, observing the scene, "that boy should've already won, no?" He folded his arms. "So why hasn't he?"

Delthea wracked her brains around. None of what she was seeing made any sense. How was the long-haired boy not winning?

"Brute strength and weaponry alone aren't enough to decide the victor in a Duel." The blonde boy explained. "This is a duel among Channelers, after all."

_Channelers._

The word reminded Delthea of the fireball she conjured in her hands back home. She remembered vividly on how brightly it burned between her fingertips, glowing like a miniature bonfire. The brilliant flames tickled the palm of her hand like mere fireflies. Delthea thought back on how funny it was when Luthier couldn't come near her. Though she couldn't feel it herself, it must have been quite hot.

… _Hot….?_

It was then that Delthea realized the true and terrifying potential of Channeling.

The comments Hilda and Byleth made about Lysithea's family name came flooding back to her. How gifted and powerful the von Ordelia family and its Channelers were. How Lysithea had placed super highly in some sort of Channeling competition. How utterly calm Lysithea was.

_If all that were true, then—_

"Looks like it is about to begin," The blonde boy announced, his voice low and serious. His focus has intensified, along with everyone else's in the crowd.

Delthea looked on. Lysithea's leg had shifted, like a martial artist getting into position. Her shoulder turned to face the opponent as she pulled her left hand in towards her.

—_then this duel was going to bring down the station on everyone's heads._

Delthea looked towards the glass roof. The sun was awfully brilliant. The roof wouldn't be able to withstand what was about to happen. Looking around, she saw that everyone had their eyes glued to the duel that was about to erupt. None of them seemed concerned that the station was going to collapse on them. No one figured out that one of the duelists happened to be the Lysithea von Ordelia, and the potential havoc she was about to unleash.

Not even Delthea was sure—she had never seen a duel before!

Delthea reflexively swallowed back her nervousness. It did little to help. She wanted to run away. But she knew that somewhere in this crowd, Byleth and Hilda were there too.

It sounded a bit heartless to think that she couldn't give a rat's ass what happened to all the people that gathered, but she couldn't bear the thought of leaving those two to what was about to happen—even if Hilda threw the journal into her lap.

Delthea had to do something. But what? She wasn't going to throw herself into the fray, the blonde boy warned her as much. Besides, she was still pretty green when it came to her Channeling powers. Still, she had to stop this duel while there was still time.

"What can I do to stop this?" Delthea whispered to herself, trying to figure something out.

_If only there was something that could stop Lysithea in her tracks… _she thought.

_Something powerful enough that even the second best Channeler would have no choice but to pause._

Did something like that exist? Delthea's powers alone weren't enough. These weak hands held powers but they were undeveloped. All they held now was a journal, Lysithea's journal.

…

_Lysithea's journal…?!_

With trembling hands, Delthea unclasped the journal's front cover and opened to a random page. It felt so wrong, but what else could she do? Her eyes quickly glossed over the entry she opened to. It was only dated to a few weeks ago.

A nervous smile trembled along her face.

_Who would've thought that this journal would be her ticket out of this mess?_

* * *

**END**

**(A/N): Thanks for reading. I have already started progress on the next chapter and its in some major editing stages. Hopefully it can be here in two weeks. **

**Anyway, if you have any questions, comments, concerns, criticisms, my PMs are always open (replying back is another animal though).**

**Please stay safe and healthy everyone.**

**Have yourselves a damn good one.**


	5. Chapter 5: Vanilla Ice Queen

**Author's Notes: Damn. It's been a while, huh? I've had this chapter typed up since May but never got around to editing it. It's been sitting on the backburner ever since life decided to kick my ass into full gear for the past couple months. COVID has not made my life easy. Being an essential worker sucks.**

**I could harp on and on about how much life tore me a new one but we'd be sitting here all day if we got to it. **

**Here's what you came for. Please enjoy.**

* * *

"A duel, here of all places? People are so impatient these days…"

Byleth said nothing in response to Hilda's jeering words. His focus was honed in on—and only on—the fight that was about to unfold. She leaned over and caught a glimpse of his handsome—totally ignoring her—face.

Back when she met the two, Delthea came off like any normal girl. Curious and bubbly, she had a tendency to get lost in her own thoughts a bit, but who wouldn't at that age?

However, the backwater—Delthea's words, not hers!—girl was sharper than she anticipated. Hilda would need to watch her step around her. Even if it was for just a second, Delthea had caught a glimpse of Hilda breaking face when broached about an uncomfortable topic: her attendance at the academy.

Thankfully with some quick thinking, Hilda was able to change the subject.

As much as it was a nuisance, Hilda carried an image with the Goneril name. People had their eyes and cameras pointed at her, whether she knew it or not. The last thing she needed was an angry letter from home about her demeanor. She could hear her brother's words already.

"_It would absolutely NOT do for a member of this house to act so—"_

She didn't even bother finishing her imagination. It felt too real. Hilda could feel another wrinkle being added to her face the longer she dwelled on such unpleasant thoughts. She should follow Byleth's example and completely relax her face.

And talking about Byleth, boy, was he ever the enigma.

He came off like a total robot. His face, devoid of emotion. Regardless of who was talking, he had this neutral, indifferent air about him. The whole ordeal with Lysithea earlier hadn't even fazed him.

_Would it kill him to crack a smile? Or a frown?_

The more she thought about it, the more curious Hilda's became about the two. Delthea and Byleth weren't your typical couple. Hell, they weren't even a couple, given Delthea's less-than-subtle denial about the whole thing. It was kind of adorable how flustered she got when asked.

Sure, Hilda didn't have any grounds to go around and point fingers at weirdly matched groups. She and Balthus were a similarly mismatched duo, but they complimented each other at least. Balthus was brash and vulgar; Hilda was polite and well-mannered when needed to be. The thousands of hours of etiquette lessons needed to go to use somewhere.

Delthea and Byleth on the other hand did not bounce off each other at all.

They didn't come off as particularly close—or friendly—for that matter. Hilda remembered the way Delthea scolded Byleth for looking through Lysithea's belongings. That wasn't the kind of tone you would use among friends. But to say that Delthea disliked Byleth was completely off the mark.

Of course Hilda realized that Delthea was attracted to Byleth—honestly, who wouldn't be? The boy was a looker—but that attraction seemed to stem more from curiosity than that of romantic intent.

Hilda was feeling the same way in fact.

Byleth was oblivious to all of it. Either that, or he had a masterful poker face.

For her pride's sake, Hilda hoped for the former.

Piecing together all of this only further confused Hilda about the pair's relationship. While Delthea exhibited a certain level of attraction to Byleth, the latter seemed completely indifferent. Which was a crying shame because Delthea was rather cute, on top of being clever. The boy didn't seem all that interested in her—or anything else for that matter.

… _No, that's not right._

The boy definitely WAS interested in something. Hilda was sure Delthea realized it too.

Whenever the two mentioned Channeling, Hilda noticed that Byleth's eyes would widen ever so slightly.

It was a minute detail, one people would often overlook during conversation, which was understandable. People widen or narrow their eyes all the time. It was grasping at straws.

But that kind of thinking only applied to people who at least expressed a degree of emotion.

So when Byleth, the living sculpture, widened or narrowed his eyes, it was far more noticeable than your average Joe or Jane.

They had mentioned Channeling several times in conversation back at the luggage kiosk. And every time without fail, Byleth would visibly react. Hilda remembered the glint in the boy's eyes as he recounted Lysithea and her Channeling status. It ignited a small spark where everything else failed.

_How disappointing._

All this thinking about Channeling left a sour taste in her mouth. She sighed, shaking her head, plopping her bottom on top of her suitcase.

Channeling—and Duels—was the world she belonged to. People were intensely passionate about Channeling and the like, how strong they were, and so on. Almost everyone in that world was a nut when it came to it.

Hilda had REALLY hoped that the next, dashing man she met wouldn't be obsessed over it like every other guy she knew. It was why she liked being around Baltie.

A close family friend, he was as knowledgeable about Channeling as her brother, but he didn't spend every waking moment talking her ear off about it.

… But Baltie wasn't really her type. They were too close. A relationship this late in the game would feel weird, especially given how the two saw each other as brother-sister… Not that she ever really considered such an avenue in the first place. Honest!

So, when she saw Byleth displaying the traits of a Channeling-Nut, Hilda's heart sank a little.

The utter lack of attention was bad enough, but seeing how into the duel Byleth was only further cemented Byleth's passions to her.

_What was so fun about Duels anyway?_

Sure, they were opportunities for Channelers to flex their guns and strut their stuff—_Defend their honor and all that jazz_—but that was too much hassle. A pain in the ass, as Balthus would vulgarly put it. (Where did he run off to anyway?) Surely there were better ways to prove your worth… not that Hilda cared all that much.

Despite her brother's insistence, showing up and showing off just wasn't her cup of tea.

_Besides, fights make you all sweaty and sticky, eugh…_

Still, to say she wasn't curious wasn't true. Jumping off from her suitcase-chair, Hilda stood shoulder to shoulder with Byleth at the railing, trying to get a good look at what they—and the entire crowd—were in store for.

At first glance, it was easy to see that it was going to be a mismatch.

A fashion mismatch.

The boy with his back to Hilda was dressed well enough _BUT THAT HAIR! WHAT WAS THAT HAIR?_

_Who was responsible for this?! Did no one tell this poor boy that his hair looks like a pineapple on a fishing line?!_

The ponytail from fruit hell ran down to his waist. Untied, the boy's hair was probably longer than her own. Quite the achievement. Hilda wondered what his hair care routine was.

Putting the fashion disaster aside—as hard as that proved to be—Hilda's eyes drifted towards his opponent in black.

_Oh. Surprise, surprise._

"Huh, who would've thought?"

"So it seems," Byleth said.

At least he replied.

It… really didn't take a genius to figure out it was HER beneath that small hood. No one else Hilda had seen would wear such an outfit unabashedly. Especially at a place like this where the upper class and wary eyes were rife.

First impressions were important, and Hilda wasn't the type to forget them.

Especially bad ones.

Lysithea had her arms to her side, leaving her completely open, vulnerable. But her stance lacked urgency and was relaxed, as if this duel was nothing more than a mere stroll to her.

If it was a ploy to get her opponent off kilter, it was working. The thing the boy was holding was a reflection of its wielder. It reverberated with an odd humming sound, one that grew stronger with each passing second.

"Ugh," Hilda groaned, cupping her ears with her hands. "Doesn't this bother you at all?"

"Hm. I've heard worse." Byleth said bluntly.

Before Hilda could ask Mr. Robot to elaborate, Pineapple Boy had raised his weapon, pointing it towards Lysithea. As it moved, Hilda could see that a bluish glow trailed the object's arc of motion. Then, a thin, blue strand materialized from one tip of the weapon to the other.

With his free hand, the boy reached out and arced his index, middle, and ring fingers on the blue strand, pulling it towards him. A thin ray of light began to form between his index and middle. It was shaped like an—

"So, his Gear is a bow, huh?" Byleth remarked. Hilda realized the same thing.

It was a garish-looking thing, Hilda thought. Long and flared wing-like arches adorned the upper half of the weapon, as if an angel had perched right above the boy's hand. The bow looked every bit cumbersome as the boy's impossible hairdo. While it looked downright monstrous, there was something regal about it as well, especially with the hue of its radiant light, shining brightly like the northern lights.

You couldn't buy a Gear like that off the market, not without paying a pretty penny for it anyway.

Gears were the name given to the weapons Channelers wielded. They weren't weapons in the typical sense. To the untrained user, they were nothing more than glorified clubs. Amateurs would only be able to power their Gear at less than half of what it was capable of. Sometimes, they wouldn't get them to work at all.

But to someone who actually knew how to use one properly, Gears were—in the words of the scholarly spoken Balthus—Weapons of Total Ass Destruction. WOTAD for short.

They acted as extensions of a Channeler, being infused with their power and dispersing its energy in a more efficient weaponized way. In doing so, it opened up many avenues to effectively use one's power.

Channelers would imbue their armaments with their Channeling and use the Gear like a powered-up tool; hence, the uncreative name.

Even though he was agitated by Lysithea's nonchalance, this boy looked like someone who knew what he was doing.

His stance was solid and refined, even when handling something that unwieldy. His poise was natural, not rigid at all.

The humming noise was now gone. It was replaced by a horn-like howl.

It was a sign that the Gear was primed and fully synchronized with its user.

All the boy had to do now was aim and loose.

Hilda had her arms folded and could feel her own grips on her arms tighten. Even though she wasn't doing the fighting, she was still getting antsy.

This WAS a Duel after all.

One person would leave the circle on their own two feet—the other, probably on a stretcher. Depending on how strong the duelers were, the destination of the stretcher would change drastically.

She let out a nervous sigh and shook her head, trying to compose herself. Hilda didn't even need to look at Byleth to know that he was the epitome of calm. She wondered how he was able to look upon the Duel so unflinchingly.

This was one of the more brutal parts of the Channeling world, one that Balthus and her brother always warned her to steer clear from. It didn't take lectures from either of them for Hilda to know the dangers. She was perfectly capable of seeing, and her eyes didn't fail her now.

Despite the danger the boy now posed with his readied weapon, Lysithea wasn't fazed at all.

Hilda was sure she had a smug grin beneath that oversized hood of hers. Lysithea shifted her stance slightly, turning her right shoulder more towards the boy. Holding her left hand to her side, Hilda could see Lysithea slowly begin to clench her fist.

A purplish light emanated from her palm.

"She channeling without a Gear," Hilda observed, noting the unarmed stance Lysithea had opted with. "She lives up to her reputation."

Byleth nodded. "She's quite skilled."

She bore the von Ordelia name after all. It was a family that dedicated more sweat, tears, and blood than any other upper echelon family to Channeling. Take a look into any Channeling history book or almanac; you were bound to find the von Ordelia name there, guaranteed.

Lysithea was the latest heir to take the mantle, joining the pantheon of Ordelia's before her.

The Goneril family was by no means a weak one. Both in business and Channeling, they weren't pushovers. Their name's reputation became more renown once her brother inherited the business from her father. Despite her less than ideal relationship with Holst, Hilda still greatly respected her brother's acumen for business and worldly matters. She was also aware that Holst was incredibly talented at Channeling too. She'd seen the awards and placards that decorated the halls of their estate.

So when he said to avoid pissing off anyone named "von Ordelia", Hilda knew this wasn't one of Holst's usual naggings.

With skills like theirs, the von Ordelia family wasn't one to be trifled with.

Hilda hoped Pineapple Boy here knew who he was up against—and how much the odds were stacked against him.

The duelists exchanged words with each other. It was customary for duelists to exchange names but that was usually BEFORE the duel started. Whatever was being said now was not part of the regularly scheduled programming, which meant that the two were probably throwing shade at each other. Talking smack wasn't illegal but it was frowned upon. Ironically, for something as barbaric as dueling, it came with its own host of rules and etiquette.

Hilda and Byleth were too far away to make out exactly what they were saying but it seemed that whatever Lysithea said had its effect on Pineapple Boy. His stance and the wobbling sound of his bow betrayed his agitation.

_That's not good._

Duels were won by not just Channeling skill. One needed a clear head to win—though, that piece of advice could be applied just about anywhere. A Gear's efficiency depended on its user's undivided focus, unclouded by emotion.

It would be a miracle if Pineapple Boy could pull out of here unscathed, let alone win.

"They're starting."

Lysithea was the first to move, despite not going anywhere. She calmly put one hand behind her back, demonstrating how little effort she needed to put into this affair. Her free hand was now swirling with the charged-up, purple fireball from earlier, now much more fearsome than before. Hilda didn't have to think twice to know that getting hit by that thing would be an instant visit to the emergency room.

Pineapple Boy bravely—or foolishly—stood his ground.

His stance didn't change and he kept his sights targeted on Lysithea. The two had now finished charging their attacks. Whoever let loose first would probably take home the victory. The size of the enclosed fighting ring didn't allow much room for moving—or mistakes. No one would miss at that range.

Though Lysithea was favored to win, it was entirely in the realm of possibility that the boy would fire his bow first and win. That's how small the fighting space was. But Lysithea didn't seem to be worried in the slightest. Her entire attitude during the whole ordeal reeked of utter confidence.

At this moment, Lysithea was absolutely certain she was going to win.

There was no chance she was going to—

"Hey! Vanilla Ice Queen!"

A girlish voice echoed throughout the station, soon accompanied by the thundering roar of the purple fireball, now let loose. The raging sphere of death cut magnificently through the air, roaring like a raging demon… before harmlessly bursting like a bubble against the channeling-reinforced glass panel ceiling.

—miss…?

Everyone had been holding their breaths the entire time. If the Gear-less channeling wasn't a dead giveaway, the signature purple fireball was. The crowd had realized the hoodie-donning girl was Lysithea. And to see the purported prodigy—and bearer of the von Ordelia name—flop so incredibly hard… well, it's not hard to imagine the resulting fallout.

The crowd had been edged so hard but was not given a proper release. Like an unsealed dam, the station erupted into a torrential shouting match to find the culprit responsible for daring to break the sanctity of dueling. Portions of the crowd broke off to hunt down the vile villain responsible for stealing away their entertainment and deserved climax. Pineapple Boy was rooted to his spot, still holding his weapon, utterly dumbfounded at this development.

Pineapple Boy had miraculously won.

"… She's gone."

"What?"

Byleth's words brought Hilda back. Turning away from the mob that had formed, Hilda looked back at the dueling ring.

Proud Lysithea, along with her fearsome purple aura, was nowhere to be seen. The confident Channeler had literally disappeared from the ring, leaving no trace behind. No matter how hard or far Hilda stared, the hoodie-wearing girl was nowhere to be seen.

The duel was now effectively over.

An anticlimactic end to what amounted to nothing more than an intense staring contest.

_Though, we did get a mini-fireworks show at the end._

Byleth quietly removed himself from the railings, no longer interested. The duel's premature conclusion didn't seem to bother him. His eyes resumed their usual indifferent gaze.

Hilda let out a semi-relieved/semi-annoyed sigh. She too had gotten worked up like the crowd and understood why they were upset. But at the same time, she was glad no one ended up seriously hurt…

If the duel had carried out as planned, the aftermath would not have been pretty. Not exactly a picture-worthy memory to look back, especially on the first day of school. If only the train arrived sooner.

_Where was the train anyway…?_

"Hilda! Byleth!"

… A rather familiar voice called out to her.

Turning around to the stairway that came up from where most of the crowd had been, Byleth and Hilda were greeted by an out-of-breath Delthea who seemed to slow down with every step. She nearly collapsed in front of them as she caught her breath.

"Easy now. Take a deep breath" Byleth instructed, quickly walking over to her, patting the wheezing Delthea on the back. "In… out…"

_How handsy._

Delthea hunched over with her hands on her knees as she followed Byleth's advice. Before long, the redness in her face began to fade and her breathing returned to normal. When Delthea finally realized what was going on, the red tinge returned with a vengeance. With his job done, Byleth removed his hand from Delthea's back. Hilda swore she saw Delthea's face contort with disappointment for a split second.

"Glad you made it out of that crowd okay," Hilda said, glancing at the swirling mob, still angry with the duel's conclusion, below the steps. "How did you even manage to get out?"

Delthea cleared her throat. "I… had some help." She pointed behind herself with her thumb.

From the steps behind her, a tall, blond-haired boy wearing a uniform emerged from the crowd, effortlessly pushing his way past the mob. Upon seeing Delthea waving at him, the boy made his way towards the group.

Hilda had her eyes glued on him the whole time as he strode towards them.

"Byleth, Hilda," Delthea began, introducing the boy, "this guy here helped me out in a pinch. His name is—"

"Dimitri?"

The name left Hilda's mouth before Delthea even finished. Delthea was so surprised she didn't even continue.

The look of utter surprised on the blonde boy's face was quickly replaced by a warm smile. He then gave a slight bow.

"It's been a while, Miss Goneril."

* * *

**(A/N): For the people that still follow the story, thanks. I hope I haven't let you down too much. I really want to write more, I really do, but time is not something I can dedicate lightly. Please understand. When will the next chapter be here? That's an excellent question that I cannot answer. I want to say soon but I hate giving hopes that I will eventually dash.**

**I'll stop rambling. It's childish and unproductive. But I sincerely hope you enjoyed. If you have any questions, concerns, or whatever, my PMs are always open.**

**Thanks again. Please stay safe and healthy everyone.**

**Have yourselves a damn good one.**


	6. Chapter 6: One Track Mind

**A/N: Whoa, this is late. Last update was over four months ago. I have no excuse. Life's been rough, but that's how it is everywhere. **

**So, without any further ado, please enjoy.**

* * *

The train was a lot quieter than Delthea had anticipated. Trains back home made a terrible racket when they bounded down the beaten tracks across the countryside, rattling her brains out. She was afraid that this train would've been the same. She didn't want to be stuck on another vehicle that lurched and bounced unsteadily; her stomach had only barely recovered. But she was pleasantly surprised.

Large, sleek, silver, streaked with blue, and emblazoned with the school's strange looking sigil, the Heroes Academy Express had a futuristic look straight out of a science fiction novel. It made the trains she frequented with her brother look like outdated junk… which they pretty much were at this point.

Luckily, the old trainmaster back home wasn't here to hear her say that. He would have given her a good ol' smack across the back of her head if he caught Delthea badmouthing his beloved Betsy like that. She'd apologize mentally later.

Stretching her arms upwards, Delthea stood up from her seat. Unlike the cars of trains she had been on before, this train divided seats into sectioned booths, designed to fit a group of four to six per room. It was like having a lounge in the place of regular rowed seats.

Two rows of seating lined the room's walls, facing each other, with a small coffee table-esque table resting between them. Delthea had no idea what sort of fabric or material the seats were made out of, but they were incredibly comfy and so, so soft. She felt like her body was melting into them as she sat down. Get too comfortable, and she'd definitely drift to sleep.

That's what happened to Hilda. She was so talkative at the start of the ride, it was almost unbelievable that she was sleeping so soundly now. It was almost as unbelievable as how photogenic Hilda looked while asleep. It was criminal.

Dimitri on the other hand was wide awake.

He had no choice really. Hilda made his shoulder her personal pillow. Any sudden movements would probably wake her up. Delthea didn't see anything wrong with giving the girl a little jostle to wake her up but Dimitri warily shook his head.

"Hilda…" he muttered, his voice barely a whisper and dead serious, "can get monstrous if woken up."

At that very moment, Hilda stirred just a tad, smacking her lips and turning to get slightly more comfortable, but that was enough to make Dimitri flinch ever so slightly.

Delthea wanted to ask why on earth Dimitri would know such a thing but she held her tongue when seeing the seriousness in the boy's eyes. The golden haired boy seemed to know Hilda well enough and on top of that, Delthea remembered running into him at nearly full speed earlier at the train station and how he barely budged. If someone like that was warning her, Delthea wasn't brave enough to put his claim to the test.

She didn't forget the congratulatory slap on the back Hilda had given her, and that was a mere slap.

In the meantime, Hilda snored away peacefully, never knowing the plight befalling her fellow cabinmates. Her sleeping visage was so picturesque, Delthea nearly forgot about the current situation, unable to take her eyes off of Sleeping Beauty.

There was something oddly blissful about her expression as she slept. A relaxed smile danced around the edges of the sleeping girl's mouth. Whatever dreams or thoughts she was having bubbling up to the surface. Delthea recognized that expression immediately.

Hilda wore the exact same face when talking a bunch earlier.

Correction: when talking to Dimitri earlier.

That wasn't to say Hilda excluded Byleth and Delthea from the conversation. In fact, she tried to get everyone to talk at least once, to liven up the cabin. She seemed genuinely curious about everyone, and wasn't looking to just make lip service smalltalk.

And in the face of all that moodmaking, Hilda exuded a certain vibe whenever her attention turned to Dimitri.

She was way too familiar, way too unreserved. The way she would playfully punch Dimitri after cracking a joke or hang to his shoulder when listening to him talk, such levels of skinship immediately set off alarms in Delthea's head.

_Were these two…?_

Delthea glanced back at the two again. The way they sat, it wouldn't be anyone's fault if they mistook it for something more.

The two did make for quite a pretty couple. Hilda was THE beauty icon many girls would dream of being and Dimitri was a textbook gentleman, looks and all. Delthea noticed all the little gestures he did, from carrying Hilda's behemoth bag, lending his arm to her as they waded through the station, and so forth.

It totally wasn't because she was a teensy bit envious.

Her companion on the other hand was ever the stoic.

Byleth barely participated in the conversation, just simple nods or curt, dry answers. He wasn't being rude but he seemed more interested in what was going on outside the train, his eyes directed towards the window, than inside. To his credit, the passing scenery was quite pretty, Delthea admitted, but she was a bit disappointed that she didn't get to hear anything from Byleth. She wanted to know more about him. Hilda had picked up on Byleth's preference to staying quiet early on and stopped extending questions to him.

So, instead, the questions were thrown to Delthea and Dimitri instead; HUGE emphasis on Dimitri.

From their conversation, Delthea found out that Hilda was traveling around the world to learn about fashion trends and ideas before being called back home by her brother to attend Heroes Academy. She had thrown a big fit because what was essentially her vacation was cut short, but relented to her elder brother's demands. It seemed regardless of social class, big brothers were always a pain in the butt.

Dimitri on the other hand was a little less grand. He had been attending some faraway private school Delthea never heard of when he suddenly decided to transfer to Heroes Academy. The spurn of the moment decision shocked his entire campus and school body and they seemed reluctant to let him go. Delthea would have been too, had she been a student there. Hilda asked him why he decided something so drastic and all he did was give a vague answer.

"I… just wanted to, I guess."

It reminded her of Byleth and his non-answers.

Delthea was so absorbed into listening to the others and asking questions, she forgot to share her own story. By the time she realized, the conversation had winded down because Hilda had gotten sleepy and started to doze off. She didn't blame her. The seats were ridiculously comfy and Delthea's story was… well, kind of boring compared to theirs.

Just as Dimitri finally seemed to get comfortable with the fact that Hilda was leaning on him as she slept, she suddenly burrowed her head even deeper into him, nestling her cheeks firmly between his arms and chest. A part of Delthea wondered if Hilda truly was asleep or perhaps just messing with Dimitri under the guise of sleeping. There was no way sleeping like that was comfortable, right?

Delthea—or rather her nose—remembered the feeling of Dimitri quite well. It was like embracing a brick wall. It was as if the boy were made of steel rather than flesh. That seemed to be the theme with all these Channeling boys. Dimitri couldn't possibly be the comfortable pillow that Hilda seemed to be so happily enjoying.

Either that, or maybe Hilda was made of tougher stuff than she was letting on.

Feeling not jealous in the slightest, Delthea decided that a change of scenery would be nice. Dimitri was still very much awake, so staring too long would seem really weird and potentially lead to an awkward conversation. Dimitri too seemed to have realized that any further discussion would be impossible without awaking Hilda. Instead, the boy reached ever so carefully reached into his blazer's left pocket and pulled out a small pamphlet.

Printed in bright bold letters, the words "Welcome" and "Academy" were visible. It was one of the welcoming brochures that were handed out to students as they boarded. Delthea forgot to grab one for herself. Her attention was elsewhere earlier.

She kind of regretted not getting one now. She had nothing to do.

Delthea's eyes wandered to the luggage rack that rested above the seats. Eying her bag next to Byleth's, she stood up, wanting to take a look at her things before arriving at the academy, but Dimitri's warning still rang in her brain.

_Monstrous…_

She gulped and sighed with resignation. So, she settled with looking out the window instead. Might as well get acquainted with the environment.

* * *

It was about a three hour journey from the Port City docks to Heroes Academy by train without breaks. If the tracks had been a straight shot from the port to the school, it would've been faster. But the tracks were designed to give incoming students a glimpse into the world they were about to enter.

The train had pulled away from the docks a while ago and bolted through quite a bit of scenery. Port City as it turned out was actually an island that connected to a smaller neighboring island by bridge.

That said, Port City island was bigger than she thought. The train had given Delthea a glimpse to just about everything the renowned island held within. Bustling city districts, smaller quaint rural towns, and wide open plains where she saw rows of farm stock beneath the brilliant sun.

The sun was much lower once the train got to the bridge that connected Port City to its northeastern neighbor. Hilda said it was named Sunset Bridge, earning the title after being the best place to gaze at the setting sun during the evening—a wonderful place to visit with a significant other. The prospect was distracting enough for Delthea to not think about how the only thing separating the train from the thundering waves below was a gigantic, five mile long concrete-and-metal fused slab raised on gigantic stilts.

Once they cleared the bridge, the train passed a small outer town and entered a lush forest absolutely filled to the brim with dense, green trees as far as the eye could see. There was the occasional hill and river to refresh her eyes, but the forest had dominated the window for much of the trip, and would so for the remainder.

There was about an hour, maybe less, left, giving Delthea a bit of time to do…

_Something, I guess…_

Unable to take any more trees, Delthea stepped away from the window. She was about to sit down when she noticed something peculiar about her seat.

When everyone boarded earlier, they had paired off into twos for the seating: Hilda with Dimitri and Byleth with Delthea. Hilda and Dimitri were snug in their seats, Hilda still dozing away without a care in the world. Delthea's seat on the other hand…

Well, it was empty.

Byleth was gone.

Delthea looked around the room in disbelief.

"When did he…" she thought out loud.

Byleth was next to her when she stood by the window. She had been gazing for a while. She must have not noticed him slip by.

Delthea turned to Dimitri, who was still reading his pamphlet, none the wiser. Asking him wouldn't help.

"Did he go to the restroom…?" Delthea muttered to herself. There was nothing weird about that. Even the most stoic of men had to go when nature calls. Can't argue against basic human biology and all that.

"Was it 'cause he's embarrassed…?"

She tried picturing an embarrassed Byleth.

…

_Yeah, no._

Delthea remembered Byleth's bag was still in the rack, resting against hers, meaning he was definitely coming back. But that didn't explain why he had to be all sneaky and ninja his way out without telling anyone.

Her eyes glanced at the empty seat next to her and the door, which she noticed was slightly ajar.

She sighed, shrugging her shoulders.

_Nothing better to do anyway._

* * *

The hallways were incredibly quiet, as expected of the luxury class car.

Oh, that's right. Right before they boarded, Dimitri pulled some strings and got their small group first-class seating arrangements on the train. He explained that nobody else would be in his room besides himself and he would be more than happy to share the available space.

Hilda didn't waste any time and immediately jumped at the opportunity, much to Delthea's surprise.

It only fueled her curiosity about the two's relationship. In case you haven't noticed, Delthea was kinda nosy. It was also the reason why she even bothered venturing out into the hall in search of Byleth.

It was a bad habit, one she picked up while working at the inn back home.

It was a problem earlier too, when Delthea was so absorbed in her own thoughts, she almost didn't hear Dimitri extending the same offer to her and Byleth as well.

Her excitement at accepting was only matched by the sudden realization that she had no ticket. She needed one to qualify for boarding and prove that she was a student.

Before she lost her mind, Byleth of all people assured her that she had a ticket. And before she could ask how the boy knew, he began to rummage through her bag. Delthea was thankful that what she had slung on her back was a day bag, and not filled something more… personal.

She had quickly turned around and smacked Byleth's hand, but not before he had retrieved a manila folder from her bag. In between Delthea's scolding, he explained that all students received complimentary train passes as part of their welcome package to cut transportation costs for students.

_Gee, if only Lu had actually TOLD me_, she silently fumed.

Pushing the thoughts of giving her brother an earful for later, she and Byleth both excitedly boarded the end car of the train.

Correction: Delthea excitedly boarded.

She couldn't tell what the boy had been feeling behind those steely eyes. He, of course, courteously thanked Dimitri before boarding but mainly kept to himself throughout the ride. Both Hilda and Delthea's attempts at pulling him into the conversation proved ineffective. The two gave up after a while but it was only Delthea who would shift her eyes back and forth between the conversation and the quiet boy.

All Byleth did was keep his gaze affixed to the window, glued to the passing sights. Had he enjoyed it like Delthea had? Did he think the same thoughts as they passed by the city and those wide, countryside fields? Was he even seeing beyond the glass at all? All Delthea could do was wonder as looked out the window with him.

Occasionally, their eyes had met in the reflection of the glass, and every time they did, Delthea instinctively averted her gaze and pretended she was engaged in the conversation. It was a blessing that the sun was a beautiful shade of red at the time.

She thought back on how Byleth's eyes never wavered like hers. His gaze simply stood in place, in time, as if they were waiting for her own, as if they were inviting her. Like a moth drawn to flame, she constantly skirted those lines, just enough to feel its heat but distant enough to not get burned—except in this case, the flames were two pools of cobalt ice, ones Delthea could find herself drowning in if drawn too deep.

She felt a tingling warmth in her ears just thinking about it.

Delthea quietly strode down the lengthy hallway, careful not to draw any unwanted attention. She remembered seeing just what kind of students boarded together with her and by God were they all picture perfect images of private school elites.

Each and every single one of them was all sharply dressed and well-mannered. There was a unique dignity and elegance in their poise and demeanor, but all of them bore a confidence that Delthea found herself sorely lacking. These particular students truly were a cut above standard. She even saw the handsome redhead from earlier on the boat among them, in a room she just passed. Delthea privately wondered if the boy would remember her at all.

Everyone stuck to their rooms, not going out of their way to wander about, as expected of such well-mannered young ladies and gentlemen. It only made Delthea stick out more. But, she also noticed that very few rooms had people talking to one another. The ones that did talk all spoke without any of the spiritedness or color of Hilda or the knowing smiles and acknowledgements of Dimitri or the wide-eyed wonder of Delthea.

It was pretty disheartening to see. Just what did these people do for fun?

Those who didn't partake in conversation were either looking through books, most likely about Channeling or Heroes Academy, or doing some personal studying. The pens and papers out told her as much. All of this further drove home the sheer caliber of Delthea's peers.

_How boring._

Delthea should probably have been doing the same things, prepping herself for the school, studying about what Channeling was. It would've been the logical thing to do, especially given her unique circumstances of being here. She knew near nothing about Channeling or Channelers. And she was going to a school full of them.

But people aren't always dictated by logic. The fickle beast that is the human heart often trumps over the brain. A dozen synapses could fire off, sending key signals to the brain to tell the body to act within reason. But all those warnings would be for naught in the face of one supreme emotion.

_Eh, I don't really care._

For someone who touted herself as being clever, Delthea sure had a one track mind. She and trains were similar in that way, being able to go down one way, her way, after having started.

After passing several rooms—and seeing virtually nobody in the hall—Delthea reached the end of the train car cabin, and essentially the train itself.

The cart that Delthea boarded possessed a unique feature over any other cabins on the express—or trains Delthea had seen for that matter: a bar.

It was a small thing that rested in the back corner of the car, complete with a counter, stools, and windows for a pleasant outside view. Many colorful bottles of liquor dotted the shelves behind the bar counter, resting below dully humming neon signs that advertised the refreshments. Some brands Delthea didn't even recognize or know how to pronounce.

It gave off a surprisingly "adult" vibe despite being a train full of teenage students. It was similar to the bars that Delthea frequented. No, she didn't drink; Luthier would skin her and more if she did. Among her chores back home, several had her deliver foodstuffs, ingredients, and other things to local establishments, and that included bars and pubs. Businesses back home were all closely knit together and looked out for one another. It was good for work relations, at least according to Luthier.

Besides, she wasn't particularly fond of the taste. Don't tell Luthier.

But what was something like this, clearly designed for adults, doing back here? Surely, the well-to-do kids of the first class would never engage in such frivolous activities.

"Well now, who do we have here?"

Well, her expectations of the upper class just shattered.

A playful voice rang out from the counter, startling her. Delthea didn't expect anyone to call out to her, least of all any of these upper class kids. She raised her head to see who it was.

There were two people leaning against the bar counter, a boy and a girl, both of their eyes pointed at her direction. One of them, the girl, was much less enthusiastic than the other at her presence. In fact, her very being just seemed unenthusiastic as a whole. Delthea didn't take it personally.

She sat slumped over the counter, leaning her face against her palm, her long, black-manicured fingers spread like tendrils along her face. Delthea estimated that the girl was probably slightly older than she was. However, she seemed… way older—not like Delthea was going to say that to her face. Her skinny frame and unusual attire didn't do any favors. She hadn't even bothered dressing anything resembling a uniform.

Who even wears a dark mesh shirt like that at this time of year? And combined with those black shorts?

_..._

… _Well, obviously someone with something to show off._

Delthea had to concede that point to the strange girl. She wasn't losing in any department, except in being approachable.

Her skin was shockingly pale, made more prominent next to her long, raven hair that seemed to sprawl down past even her lower back. The neon lighting of the bar signs accentuated the girl's thin, almost gaunt, face, sharp cheekbones, and her narrow, piercing eyes. Delthea couldn't tell if it was the shadow cast by the strange girl's bangs or some thick eyeliner that made her eyes appear so gloomy.

Even so, Delthea had to admit the girl was, surprisingly, pretty.

"What?" the girl hissed, her tone a snarl, catching Delthea staring. Oops. Her voice may have been soft, almost frail-sounding, but it packed an icy wallop. The moody girl's words alone felt like they lowered the train car's temperature by several degrees.

_Yeah. Pretty creepy._

"Ah, don't mind my friend here," the boy said, trying to disarm the tension. "She's not as scary as she looks."

The girl turned her pointed gaze toward her laidback companion.

"You sure about that?"

Her friend laughed. "You mean about you being scary?"

"You being my 'friend'."

Make that several dozen degrees.

The boy wasn't fazed in the slightest. "Baby steps."

Delthea's attention moved to the boy as he relaxedly stood from the bar counter and waved a small greeting at her, flashing an easy-going smile.

Delthea gasped.

Today was just full of surprises.

First Byleth the mystery boy, then the fashion mogul Hilda Goneril, and now—

Pearly white teeth, lush, olive skin, tousled black hair, and striking green eyes. Delthea would recognize that face anywhere. She remembered seeing his face along the various posters that lined the small movie theater back home, teasing the hottest films.

_Or were, over half a year ago._

Delthea also may have bribed one of the theater workers to take one of those posters home.

"Y-you're Claude Riegan… Right? The actor?"

The boy playfully shrugged. "People all day have been saying I resemble him."

_To a T._

He was wearing some semblance of a uniform, unlike the girl, but with some of his personal flair instilled. The other male students, like Dimitri, opted for the standard blazer, dress shirt, and tie combination. This boy on the other hand ditched the tie and blazer completely, along with the prim and proper appeal of the uniforms.

Instead, several of the upper buttons on his shirt were undone, giving a dangerous glimpse into what lay beneath. His shirt was also untucked and had its sleeves cleanly folded up to his elbows. It was all topped off by a simple golden necklace and silver earring combo.

It was a welcome sight after being scared half to death by the girl.

"Tell me, am I pulling off the look okay?"

"I-uh-mm—" Delthea's words became lodged inside her mouth.

"Oh, knock it off, Riegan." The gloomy girl muttered, shaking her head, "Nobody likes hearing anyone jerk themselves off out loud."

"You wound me, Tharja my dear," Claude cried out, clutching his heart in mock pain, his golden necklace jangling. "We've known each other for how long now?"

"An hour and thirteen minutes." The girl, Tharja, said flatly, rapping her fingernails against the bar counter. "And you still haven't convinced me. The people you've shown me so far are…"

"Not up to your standard?" Claude quipped.

"Boring." The girl bluntly stated, motioning towards him. "I was expecting more. I won't learn anything going to an academy when the test subjects are so bland."

… _Test subjects?_

"Hmm…" Claude hummed, hand rubbing his chin, deep in thought. His eyes roamed around the room until they settled on an unfortunate bystander to this whole ordeal. The boy's emerald eyes lit up.

For how charming the boy was, Delthea didn't like that look.

"How about her?" Claude suggested nonchalantly, gesturing towards the confused girl.

She got up from her stool. Standing up, she looked even more spectral than before, with her long black hair flowing behind her like a ghost's shadow. Tharja stood next to Delthea, her eyes scanning her up and down. It almost felt like Tharja was sizing her up but Delthea had no clue what Moody Girl here was doing. It must've lasted only a couple seconds but her gaze was so intense, it felt much longer.

Then, a small yet unnerving grin spread across the pallid girl's face.

"Well, well." She finally said. Tharja was standing so close, Delthea could feel her breaths tickling her cheeks. They were as chilling as her voice, like ice cubes being slid across her face. Delthea took a step back and thankfully Tharja didn't pursue. Instead, she stood there, arms crossed, with a self-satisfied look on her face.

Tharja briefly turned to look back at Claude.

"Changed my mind."

With those ominous words, the strange girl strode out of the bar and down the hallway until she was no longer in sight. Well, it was more like she glided out, as ghostly as she was.

Now, it was just the two of them.

Delthea Rivers, the girl from the middle of nowhere, and Claude Riegan, world-renowned teen actor who strangely retired at the peak of his career.

And turned out to be a Channeler as well.

What other celebrities were actually secret Channelers, Delthea wondered.

But before Delthea had any time to hash out her thoughts, warning bells sounded off in her head. Turning immediately to Claude she asked:

"Just what exactly was that all about?"

The words "test subject" and Tharja's look had sent shivers down her spine.

He shot her a disarming grin, unaware of her little dilemma. "A work in progress." But an inquisitive look quickly took over. "But man, to impress Tharja, you must be a real piece of work, huh?"

_Oh look, the pot was talking to the kettle._

"I-I have no idea what…" Delthea stammered.

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm talking about your Channeling."

Her ears perked up. It always did when talking about topics she had absolutely no clue about.

"My Channeling."

"Yeah," the boy nodded. "I'm tryna figure out what exactly you got that made Tharja so interested." He then flashed his most charming smile yet. "You wouldn't mind, oh, I don't know, maybe sharing a little about yourself?"

Delthea scoffed, her mind racing, "I hardly even know you."

"You knew my name and previous occupation," Claude retorted, motioning to himself with a practiced hand. "Hell, you probably know the final film I worked on."

He was right. She did know. Verdant Wind was an amazing movie. She even remembered Claude's legendary final monologue with his female co-lead and romantic interest. Even the rumors of the two dating at one point, and her shattered dreams when she found out.

Not like she was going to admit that.

Claude grinned, catching onto the swirling mess in her head. "Sounds like you know me just fine."

Delthea folded her arms as calmly as she could and shut her eyes. She hoped her face wouldn't betray the mess hidden beneath.

Sure, she could have just said no and kept quiet but that would make her look like an ass, not to mention self-absorbed. Not the ideal first impression she wanted to leave someone, least of all Claude Riegan of all people.

And it wasn't because she wanted to look good in front of him. No, that was a lie because that was definitely a part of it. But it was also because of the sort of impact her actions could for her in the future. Claude undoubtedly had a lot of… varied connections. That Tharja girl was a prime example. If word got out that she was some self-centered knob, well, that wouldn't do.

BS-ing her way out of this was out of the question. She just didn't know enough surface level information about Channeling to do so. All of her knowledge subsisted off of tidbits Byleth and Dimitri told her. Helpful, sure, but Byleth's lessons about Channeler's sensitivity to the environment and Dimitri's info about Duels and the like told her zilch about her own powers.

All she had for that were her own experience and Luthier's less than assuring words.

_Talented, my ass…_

…

_Wait a minute._

She subtly drew in a deep breath to calm her nerves. She had gotten so sidetracked, Delthea nearly forgot why she ended up at the bar in the first place. And she hadn't seen Byleth at all in the meantime. She'd have to wrap this up and get a move on.

And she had just the thing.

It was something she was developing on her own to help her get out of small jams like these. It had nearly worked on Luthier when she got caught looking through the guest book for Jerry's last name. It only earned her an extended lecture from him but that proved that it could work.

Only problem was she hadn't practiced it since then. At all.

_How assuring._

"You said you're interested, right?" Delthea finally said, as measured as she could. Her voice almost wavered there for a second but she stamped out her nervousness. She couldn't afford to look like that now.

Claude's grin looked like it never left his face. "What I've been sayin' this whole time."

_Here we go._

"Would you like a demonstration?"

Now it was Claude's turn to look stupefied. He hadn't expected her to say that. He composed himself as quickly as Delthea expected. Now, she just had to wait for him to take the bait.

Claude seemed to stew over Delthea's suggestion for but a second. Then, a mischievous glint shone in his eyes. His gaze then darted around the train, checking if anyone else was around. There wasn't.

"Sure," he acquiesced, giving her a slight showy bow. "The floor is yours."

_Perfect._

Claude stepped back from the middle of the room, letting Delthea take center stage. It had been a while since she did this. She tried to think back to when it had happened.

Her back had been straight, her breathing was calm. Her arm was outstretched and…

_Okay, I think I got it._

Delthea planted her feet firmly on the hardwood floor of the train car's bar, shoulder width apart. She straightened her back, to match the confident, concentrated posture she was going for. Confidence was key. The moment she lost that focus, this whole thing would fall apart.

Taking a deep breath, she stretched her right arm forward and pointed her finger away from her. She made sure not to point it directly toward Claude, who was standing off to the side, mesmerized.

"Make sure to keep your eyes on me," she winked. _Eugh, that hurt to do._

But it worked. Claude's eyes were glued to her form.

Delthea then put all her focus along the tip of her finger. This was a crucial step. She had to direct all her concentration on a centralized point along her body, so that the dispersal would be focused and the channeled energy would know where to converge. It took more finesse than channeling a fireball.

Now, the final step, and probably the most important one. She had to envision its effect. Whether it be a mental picture or word, the final product was dependent on what she wanted and how exactly she wanted it. It was at this step she failed before, earning a well-deserved flick to the forehead by her brother dearest afterward.

But now, her heart was eerily relaxed, unlike before. It felt like she was in total control and knew exactly what she was doing. All she had to do now was top it off with a verbal command.

_One more deep breath._

"Phew…"

She got this. The command was eagerly dancing along the tip of her tongue. Her arm and finger were poised. All her channeled energy was honed in and ready to go. It was going to work.

_Now…_

"Aurora."

* * *

Professor Saber Arvad had been enjoying a pleasant afternoon nap at his desk. As it was the opening night of school, he decided to take the day easy before the brats would arrive by train. A long semester awaited him after all. After reviewing his orientation schedule and speech one last time, he drifted off to the land of dreams.

At least, that was the plan.

"Saber. Wake up."

He was being rudely shaken awake.

Maybe if he just ignored it, then—

"I know you're awake. Up and away, now."

_Ah, damn. There goes my afternoon._

Slowly blinking open his one good eye, he was met with a familiar face.

"Ah, Miss Secretary," his gravelly baritone voice said, still in the process of waking up. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Heroes Academy's stunning secretary, Miss Tiki, had a rather displeased look plastered across her face, which was unusual for the normally cheery headmaster's right hand. Was she upset with seeing him sleeping on such a big day? Saber could only guess.

"There's been an accident," Tiki replied, her voice tart, accompanied by that distinct accent of hers.

Saber raised a half-awake eyebrow. "What, the caterers mess up the food or something?"

The green-haired secretary sighed, shaking her head. "I could only wish."

She handed the groggy professor the clipboard she had been holding the whole time. Confused, Saber took it.

"What's this?" he asked.

"The details of the accident."

Saber's eye was more alert now. He quickly glanced over the document attached to the clipboard, making out the bolded keywords detailing him of the dilemma that was plaguing the sweet secretary.

Unauthorized dispersal of Channeled energy. Use of prohibited class of Channeling. Reckless endangerment of the student body. Mishandled use of on board a moving vehicle with passengers. Reckless display of… the list went on.

Saber glanced up. "That's quite the rap sheet."

"And it's only been the first day," Tiki resignedly sighed. "I can only think of one other student who got up to this much trouble the first day he arrived."

Saber snorted, "Even I didn't cause this much mayhem on opening night."

Tiki folded her arms. "I'm talking about your protégé."

He chuckled, hit with both pangs of nostalgia and slight regret. "Touché." He then got up from his comfortable seat and stretched out his limbs, feeling the blood circulate once more. Sleeping hunched over for hours always did a number on his body. He felt a slight pull in his back. Oh, that was going to stick with him for some time.

"Oogh," Saber groaned, "not as young as I used to—" Tiki flashed him a murderous glare. He cleared his throat.

"Right," he said, leaving his previous thought unfinished out of fear for his life, striding away from his desk and into the hall beyond his office, "how're we going to handle this? The usual protocol?"

Tiki followed after him and glanced at her watch. "We've already got people on it. Media people will probably want a statement as to why there was a sudden explosion on the Heroes express train."

"We going to tell them it was an exercise and there's nothing to worry about?" Saber suggested.

"Precisely," Tiki nodded, her attention now on the hologram display from her watch, swiping past lists and pages beyond Saber's expertise. "The students on board have been told the same thing. Luckily it was the last car on the train, otherwise this would have been much harder to handle."

"How fortunate," Saber tersely quipped. "We have any witnesses?"

"Only the ones involved."

The two had reached the elevator at the end of the hall. Saber wasted no time in pressing the button heading up. The crisis control room was up at the top floor next to the headmaster's office. Before long, the elevator announced its arrival with a distinct "ping" sound.

Saber quickly stepped in and stuck his hand out to hold the elevator doors from closing.

"You coming?" he asked his co-worker of nearly five years, and mentor for much longer.

Tiki glumly shook her head. "Can't. Someone must handle damage control. The train had barely arrived when the accident took place. The students will have questions why there's a large, gaping hole at the back of the train."

Saber whistled unenthusiastically. "Tough job."

"Without a doubt."

Saber removed his hand from the elevator doors. "Good luck, we're all counting on you."

Tiki sighed as she turned away. "As always."

The doors closed, leaving Saber alone as his elevator sped up to the fifth floor. It was a short trip but it gave time Saber time to think over the situation. It wasn't anything he couldn't handle but it would be a pain in the ass. Talking with reporters and media people was never fun, unless it was to gloat.

He glanced back down at the clipboard in his hands one last time, looking at the black-and-white photos and names of the students who threw this mess onto his plate. One profile, the girl, in particular stood out to him. He looked at her face and name, sandwiched between the two other students involved.

"No previous channeling history to speak of but scouted for her… Huh. Interesting." Half of him was sincere, the other was annoyed. "So this is who the Old Man was talking about."

He pinched the bridge of his nose as the elevator arrived at his destination. He kept repeating the student's name in his mind. She was going on his watchdog list, effective immediately.

The doors opened but Saber took a moment to sigh. It was only the first day but deep down he knew it was going to be a long year.

_Thanks for making my life a bit harder, Miss Delthea Rivers_

* * *

**A/N: Oh boy. Things are beginning to heat up as our heroes finally arrive at the school, but not in the way they expected. Next chapter will be here within... I don't know. Two weeks? A month? Two months? Hopefully the very former. **

**Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed. PMs are always open for questions, comments, concerns, rants, etc.**

**And as always, have yourselves a damn good one.**


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